


Familiar Grounds

by pocketmouse



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Community: kink_bingo, F/M, First Contact, Multi, Pre Season/Series 07, Prime Directive, possession/marking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 22:29:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketmouse/pseuds/pocketmouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone has been giving the people on Geros IV a leg up into the Iron Age. The answer seems simple at first, but quickly turns complicated, between raiding tribes, a greedy interstellar regime, and the Doctor's plans never quite going according to ...plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Right, first off, let me say that this story got way off track from my original idea, which was based off a line from the books in the first season with the Ponds, about Rory and the Doctor getting locked up together on the planet with the semi-llamas. The semi-llamas are still here, but that's about it. The story kept taking over and demanding I go in a different direction from everything I'd originally intended. Poor Rory. 
> 
> Plot points gleefully stolen from a handful of TOS episodes, because I love me my campy sci-fi. Bonus points if you get all the references. 
> 
> Much much thanks to such_heights for the cheerleading, hand-holding, betaing, and general awesomeness.

"So, I know you take us to the fun bits of the universe," Amy said, leaning against the TARDIS console. "But how much skipping around in time do you have to do to get to all those civilizations? I mean, I figured it'd have to be a lot, yeah, but most of the species we've encountered seemed to know each other. Or, they were at least willing to work together to fight you, yeah? Like when supervillains team up against Batman sometimes. And everyone all over the place was willing to come together to help you, but time was broken, so I don't know if that counts." The Doctor shifted her out of the way so he could adjust the gamma vector of their local spatial stability, but she moved to lean back against the typewriter as soon as he was done.

"Well, it's a bit of both. There's no point in travelling in just space, and not time. And while I must confess a certain fondness for particular places or times, when you look at it on a galactic scale, a lot of that doesn't matter. The 24th century or the 53rd, humans are still there. The Daleks always show up, even if they've supposedly been destroyed. The Trion Regime lasted for millennia before it crumpled. Plus, it doesn't hurt that so many species look alike. Sure, you can tell a Silurian from an Ood, but it's harder to tell a Delian from a Samartian. Several of the places we've visited, if you'd told them you were from Earth, they wouldn't have believed you."

"That doesn't actually answer the question," Amy replied.

"Does it matter?" Rory asked. He was double-checking the contents of the picnic basket for the third time. Or triple-checking the contents for the second time. "Even if we only move physically, the fact that we move that far in under a minute means we're traveling faster than light. That's time travel."

"Well, if you want to look at it the boring way, yes," the Doctor said. "I can also travel backwards in time, which I can tell you, Newton does not appreciate. The actual answer, Pond, is some, but not as much as you'd think. It's all relative." He pulled the brake, and the TARDIS ground to a halt. "Now, let's see where we are."

" _I_ like how you can fly us all over creation, and still not know where we're going to end up," Rory said.

"I do eventually. Just often I let the TARDIS pick. I can't pick all the destinations, you know." He opened the door for his two companions.

They stepped out onto a steep hillside. Actually, looking into the distance, they were probably in the middle of a mountain range. The land rose sharply to the east and disappeared into black mountaintops, the crests hidden by clouds. The entire sky was cloud-softened, heavy grey and purple things that promised rain soon. But not yet. He tasted the air — not for a few hours. Enough time to eat and poke around for a bit before they had to worry about getting wet.

"It looks like the Alps," Amy said. "No snow, though."

"Too warm for snow," Rory replied. "Barely jumper weather." He looked around. "No trees, just bushes and stuff. Does that mean they're all lower down, or that this planet doesn't have any trees?"

The Doctor shrugged, and set out, heading slightly downhill. He thought he could see a stream a few miles away. If it was flat enough, there should be somewhere nice to sit. "It could mean that the trees are sentient, and are sitting just beyond that next rise, waiting to attack."

Rory gave him a tired glare, while Amy laughed. "Come on, I'll race you down the hill." She elbowed around him and took off running.

Rory huffed. "Amy —" The Doctor reached around and liberated the picnic basket from him. Rory paused for a second, then shouted "I am not chasing you down the side of a mountain!" Then he took off running after her.

The Doctor followed quietly. They were easy to follow with all the shrieking and laughing. And, he imagined, snogging, but since he couldn't hear that, he couldn't exactly follow them by it. Pity.

Amy and Rory must have seen the stream as well, on their race down, because they'd found their way over to it by the time he caught up with them. And they'd found a friend as well. It was nearly as tall as Amy, though a lot shaggier. It looked a lot like a llama, but he was pretty sure llamas were kept for their fur, and this had sleek fur like a cat. And no humps. Did llamas have humps? Camels did. Amy was petting the animal, while Rory watched it suspiciously.

"Hello," he said. The not-quite-llama turned its head away from Amy to sniff at him, and he let it, scratching its nose. Its fur was coarse. More like a dog, then? It turned its attention to the picnic basket, and he lifted it out of the way. "Sorry, no, not for semi-llamas. Demi-llamas. Llama-things. Don't think you eat sandwiches, or tea."

"I think it's tame," Amy said. She scratched it under the chin. "Wouldn't it be biting or spitting if it wasn't?"

The Doctor squinted at it. "We could check its teeth..." He shook his head. "No, best not to."

Amy looked at the picnic basket, then back to the sort-of-llama. "What if it wanders off while we're eating?"

Rory shrugged. "Well, it's not our semi-llama." Amy frowned.

"We'll eat," the Doctor said. "If it is a social creature, or a domesticated one, it'll probably stay nearby, and we can collect it when we're done." He set the basket down and pulled out the blanket.

There were halfway through their meal, and not even a tenth of the way into an argument about whether the Star Wars remake was better than the 43rd-century pantos, when a voice could be heard, coming up the hillside.

"Pashti! Paaaaaaaaaaaaashtiiiiiiii! Come back here, you lump! I'm gonna turn you into soup if I'm out here all day chasing after you, just you — oh, hello." A woman had appeared, picking her way up the rocky hillside on a dappled horse. She seemed only mildly surprised to see them. The not-a-llama was blatantly ignoring her. She nodded to them, dismounted, and made straight for the not-a-llama. "Of course Pashti found travelers. You're a great big flirt, aren't you, Pashti?" She reached up and grabbed him by one long pointed ear, bending it back gently. He resisted for a moment, twisting his neck, then knelt down. "Good boy," she said. She attached a bridle of some sort, and moved to join the three of them. Pashti followed placidly. "He didn't interrupt your meal, did he?" she asked.

"No, he was very well-behaved," Amy said.

"That's a first," the woman said. "He gets uppity with the others, so of course they bite him, and after enough of it he'll run off. That's what he gets for being the smallest. I should probably put him back with the yearlings for another season, until he learns to behave better." She shook her head. "Sorry! My name's Ayla. Been a while since we've seen travelers this far east. Normally we don't see anyone in the High Pass after the rainy season starts."

"We don't normally come this way, but it's been doing us all right so far." The Doctor smiled at her. "I'm the Doctor, and this is Amy and Rory." He stood as he made the introductions.

Ayla laughed. "You certainly don't look dressed for the High Pass. It's been a mild autumn so far, but it's going to pour tonight. Come down to our camp, you can spend the night with us. Maybe a few days, if it's on your way, and you don't mind helping out with the _shteti_." She gave Pashti a friendly nudge with her shoulder. "They're not all as bad as this one, I promise."

  


'Camp' was probably the wrong word for it. There was a herd of at least a hundred semi-llamas — _shteti_. From this distance they looked more like cows, which sounded like a more appropriate analogue for how the Esselar used them. Four riders were scattered along the edges of the herd, nudging a _shteti_ here and there, but there were no signs of more horses. Resources must be scarce if herding animals was a hands-on job.

To one side the smoke from several cooking fires was rising, and people were gathered in groups, putting together massive tents. They reminded the Doctor of yurts, though the roofs were shaped differently, and the inner structure didn't seem to be wood — maybe there _were_ no trees on the planet. There was also a handful of lean-to like structures set up near the herd of _shteti_ , and a few smaller more traditional tents, that would probably only hold four people, as opposed to the yurts, big enough for ten. Rory and Amy both looked impressed by the spread of the camp.

"Well, they only got a few miles further than I thought before they stopped for the night," Ayla said, dismounting. "At least Pashti decided to wander off near the end of the day. If he'd wandered off in the morning, I'd have had to spend all day playing catch-up." She patted his neck.

"You found him!" someone called, and the Doctor looked up to see another woman approaching them. She had a bundle of cloth on her shoulder — probably she was helping to assemble one of the yurts.

"I think he got distracted from running off," Ayla replied. "Mind like a pebblefish." She turned to the three of them. "This is my sister Henn. Henn, I've brought us some guests for the night. This is Amy, Rory, and the Doctor."

"Oh, you're a healer?" Henn clapped her hands together. "Does your knowledge extend to animals? We have a few _shteti_ that were hurt in an attack a few days ago, and while they're well enough to move, obviously, they're still a little slow, and if you have any knowledge you could share —"

"I'm afraid I don't know much about animal husbandry," the Doctor said, shaking his head. He looked over Henn's head at Rory, who shook his head as well, giving him a look that said 'don't you dare,' so he continued on a different tack. "You said you were attacked? By whom?"

Henn shrugged. "It's fall. Anyone who didn't stock enough to be ready for winter would send out a raiding party. We're not far enough into the mountains yet for them to be protection enough, though Lamána is well guarded by the pass." She seemed unconcerned by it, so the Doctor put it aside as well. Probably not the kind of raiding party that'd really get your blood up anyway. He'd let Rory and Amy gawp about for a day or so, then they'd be on their way again. "Later into fall and winter, we might hire on a few guards from the coastal settlements, once we're at the winter pasture, but it's too early for that yet. After the rainy season ends."

"Well, at the very least I'd be willing to take a shift or two on watch. I don't sleep much, so it's no hardship." The Doctor clasped his hands behind his back, fingers twitching restlessly. "How far is it to the winter pasture?"

"Lamána is another two days away. Three if we get slowed down by another attack, but that's unlikely. If you're interested in helping to keep watch, Doctor, you should talk to Wyan. He's in charge of the flock. In the mean time, I'll see if I can't scare up a tent for the lot of you. We're short on supplies since it's the end of the herding season, but we should be able to find something for you."

"I'll help you," Amy said, and moved off with the two women, pointing to something and getting a laugh in response.

"You've got that look on your face," Rory said.

"No I don't," the Doctor replied. He paused. "Which look?"

"Trouble."

"Oh. Well, then probably, yes."

He could see Rory keep in a sigh. "Are we staying a while, then? If they're on the move, we're just getting further from the TARDIS. And I don't see any cars."

"Don't worry about that." A drop of rain fell on the Doctor's shoulder, followed quickly by another, then two, then ten. "Worry about how waterproof those tents are." He pulled his coat up over his head, and they dashed for the nearest bit of shelter.

  


"I thought you hated camping," Rory said. He kicked at the pile of fabric between them. Waxed and felted, it felt almost like leather in Amy's hands.

"I don't like it, you're the one who hates it," Amy corrected. "Ever since Mels threatened to leave you out for the bears." And then pretended to be a bear, at three in the morning. That was the last time Rory had gone camping with the Ponds.

Rory made a noise of dissatisfaction, and returned to patching his own section of the tent cover. They'd been given items that had been set aside for repair over the winter, patchwork in exchange for their use. "It's not so bad if there's something to do," he acknowledged. "Which is why I'm worried about the captain of the ADHD brigade over there." He tilted his head towards the Doctor, who was sorting through the pieces of the tent proper. Probably looking to make some 'improvements.'

Amy snorted. "He's not that bad."

"He woke me up in the middle of the night last week to ask me to help him undo some repair work he'd done because he'd broken the environmental controls and it was snowing in the control room."

"Is that where that parka came from?" And the snow boots. And the skis in the control room.

"I now know more than I ever need to about the 1988 Winter Olympics," Rory replied dully.

"Well, I don't think we have to worry about that here," Amy replied. "They're nomadic, right? So we'll be moving tomorrow and —" she paused. "Hang on. Did you say he _woke you up_?" She looked at Rory. The edges of his lips were starting to twitch. Rory. Who only wore clothes to bed reluctantly, and never bothered to put anything back on if it got removed during the night. "You — did you — did he —"

Rory burst out laughing, putting down his work. "He turned bright red. He didn't turn the lights on when he grabbed me, so he didn't notice 'til he shoved me out into the hall. And of course I wasn't awake enough to protest."

Amy gasped with laughter, the image vivid in her mind. "Oh god, I wish I'd seen that."

"He probably would have noticed you being naked a lot quicker," Rory snickered.

"I wouldn't bet on that," she said. The Doctor had been officially declared a hopeless cause years ago, after the fifth time he didn't pick up on their 'three people on a honeymoon' hints, and the sixth two-person stop. While it still caused a little pang, Amy didn't feel bad about mocking him when he brought it on himself. And it wasn't like she and Rory didn't tease each other when they had the chance.

Rory picked up the cover again. "Still. Proves my point, doesn't it? The Doctor's not going to be interested in living in a tent for too long. If he doesn't find trouble, he's going to make it."

Amy shook her head. "I'm sure he can hold out for a day or two." No she wasn't. But it'd be easier to deal with a restless Doctor if he thought she thought that.

She peered out into the rain. "The poncho looks nice, though." Not being equipped for a rainstorm, they'd been loaned rain gear as well. Unfortunately that meant ponchos here. Amy had gone back once to look for the bin full of blankets in the control room, but it had disappeared. Still — ponchos.

Rory shook his head. "Very fetching." His was folded up next to him, since they were nice and dry in one of the larger communal tents.

The rain didn't stop, but by the time they'd finished all the mending — mending! Travel time and space and mend strangers' tents, there was a sales pitch — the rain had petered down to a steady sprinkle, and the sun was shining through the clouds. The Doctor was setting up the borrowed tent, on the far side of the communal tent that functioned as a kitchen. Past that was the feeding grounds for the llama things. The Doctor waved them over, and they stepped out into the rain to help him set up the last details of their temporary abode.

"Wow, this is a two-person tent?" Amy said, looking around at the inside. It was big enough for her to stand up. Her and five of her closest friends.

"Two very large people," Rory agreed. "And their luggage."

"It'll do," the Doctor said dismissively. "It's... cozy."

"Just because it's not bigger on the inside —" Rory started.

"No —" The Doctor stopped, clearly unable to think of a retort. He frowned.

"Give me some of those blankets," Amy said. "And put that poncho somewhere it won't drip everywhere."

The Doctor left it on. "I like ponchos. Ponchos are cool." He tugged it down a little and went back outside. Amy exchanged a look with Rory, and fought the urge to roll her eyes.

  


By the time Amy caught up with the Doctor again, it was evening, the deepening shadows throwing every peak and fold of the mountain range into sharp relief. The rain had stopped, and the Doctor had shed the poncho. There was mud on his shoes and streaked on his left shoulder, smudged where he'd brushed at it before forgetting again.

"Hey," she said, casual. She nudged him with her elbow. He nudged her back.

"Where's Rory?" the Doctor asked. He plucked a leaf from the bush and sniffed it. Amy hoped he wasn't going to try eating it again.

"Hanging around one of the common tents — the blue one." She laughed. "Nona complimented his sewing skills, and he tried to brush it off, but he ended up getting dragged into a conversation on fiber and something to do with brushing horses — or llamas, I guess, but Rory only knows horses —" She stopped. "I kind of stopped paying attention," she admitted. Horses were cool, but they were talking about burrs and felting and whatever. Rory had looked lost, too, but he was too polite to excuse himself from the conversation.

The Doctor looked at her out of the corner of his eye and grinned. "Sometimes Rory's too polite for his own good."

"Most times," Amy agreed. His pliability was endearing, but she wished more people would appreciate how amazing he was.

"Still, maybe he can teach the TARDIS how to sew a proper buttonhole," the Doctor said. He offered her his hand, a mischievous look in his eyes. "Meanwhile, we're pretending to be berrypicking."

"Pretending?" Amy said. The Doctor's hand was warm in hers. "And what are we actually doing?"

"Following whoever's snuck off into the woods." Amy turned to look, but he tugged her back. "Don't _look_ ," he hissed. "Whoever it is is trying to blend in. If we do the same, then they'll leave us alone for as long as they can. But if we barge in now, we won't get any closer to finding out what it is he's up to."

"How do you know he _is_ up to anything, and not just berrypicking himself?" Amy asked, trying to ignore the way the Doctor had her pressed against his side. Instead she concentrated on scouring her memory for any suspicious activity, but she couldn't think of anything, unless it was subversive semi-llama activity.

"He's been following _us_. I saw him when Henn took Pashti back to the herd, then skulking around the back of the communal tent when you and Rory were making repairs. Now, that alone is enough to be a coincidence, but then I started poking my head around, and he was everywhere. There's nothing more obvious than someone trying to blend in." Like he'd be one to know.

"Maybe he was just interested in the new people," Amy pointed out. She moved away from the Doctor a little, casually, and he moved with her, so she could see the man he was watching without being so obvious about it.

"Yes, but any of the Esselar who were curious about us just came right up and introduced themselves," the Doctor pointed out. "Kaêl even brought his kids." The chieftan had eight kids. Amy shook her head. "He was outside the tent, and he followed me up to the pasture again. I wasn't even doing anything interesting. If he was actually curious, he would have been following the two of you. Especially with Rory and his inability to turn anyone away."

"You make him sound easy," Amy said. The Doctor made a face. She changed the subject. "Do you even _have_ any berries?" she asked.

"There was one bush, about twenty minutes ago. Haven't seen anything with fruit since then," the Doctor replied, sounding regretful. "And I wouldn't recommend eating them, I think they're poisonous."

"Right," Amy said, and kept walking. They weren't going in a straight line, instead wandering from bush to interesting rock to cyprus-like shrub. Most of the time she could see whoever it was, moving fifty meters or so ahead, but sometimes he disappeared from view. The Doctor didn't seem particularly concerned, so she let her attention wander some, looking at the scenery.

They were in the mountains, yeah, but it wasn't a steep climb. The ground just gradually sloped up. And up. She would have felt like she was climbing a hill if it wasn't for the fact that if she turned around, she could see for miles, everything sloping away in gentle turns and wrinkles, like a blanket kicked off the bed. Mostly a patchwork of dull greens, brown was starting to fade in as plants went dormant in preparation for winter. Already starting to shrink with distance, the Esselar camp was a bright spot, with its patterned tents and yurts, cooking fires blazing and semi-llama herd the only obvious movement. It was different from the type of places they usually visited. It wasn't Rio, but the lack of running around made for a nice breather.

"So what do you thinks this bloke _is_ up to, if he's not berry-picking either?" Amy returned to the earlier topic of conversation. She jumped off the rock she'd been using as a perch, making a neat landing next to the Doctor.

The Doctor tilted his head to the side. He'd found another bush, but wasn't managing to fake an interested expression. "That raid Henn mentioned. He could be working with whoever instigated it — a spy, or trying to steal back some of what was taken. But I don't think that's it."

"Why not?" Amy asked.

"He doesn't look right. He's trying to blend in, but he didn't look like the rest of the Esselar."

Amy frowned as she looked at the man, who had stopped and was looking around. But not at them; they were too far away. "He looks normal to me."

The Doctor scoffed. But he didn't get a chance to elaborate before a series of red beams shot out of the ground around them, boxing them in.

Then everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Her head hurt. No, scratch that — everything hurt. That kind of lingering muscle ache like after you overextended yourself at the gym. But she hadn't needed a gym when she'd been running around with the Doctor.

Speaking of. She cracked open one eye and looked around. She was on a cot in a dimly lit room. There was no one else there. She sat up. The lights were electric. That was new. She tried the door. Unlocked.

"Hello, Amy," the Doctor said. He was slouched against the wall, obviously waiting for her. He uncrossed his arms and moved over to her, checking her over visually. She let him.

"Where are we?"

"I'm not sure. The air is sterilized, I'm not even sure if we're still on the planet."

"You've got to be joking." She looked at him. He didn't laugh.

"If it helps, I'm sure their intentions are peaceful." He held up his screwdriver as proof.

Amy checked her own pockets. "I've got my phone," she said. "Great, we can call Rory for help."

"That's not a bad idea," the Doctor said. "Well, not asking Rory for help. But calling him. The GPS in your phone is useless without the satellites, but if you sent him a message, I can track it and figure out how close to him we are."

"Which might not be something I want to know," Amy replied, but pulled her phone out, sending Rory a quick text.

_FOUND THE DOCTOR. HE'S BEEN BEAMED SOMEWHERE. SO HAVE I. BACK BY DINNER??? XX_

Rory called her back almost immediately. "You've been what? Where are you? Can you get away?"

"We can't, Rory," the Doctor came over and spoke into the phone. "I think we're on the moon."

"The _moon_?" Amy and Rory said at the same time.

"Well, that or a ship, but my bet's on the moon. Thanks, you've been a big help. We'll be back as soon as we can. Keep an eye on the semi-llamas for me, will you?" And he hit the call end button.

Amy crossed her arms. "I can't believe you did that."

"Didn't think you should waste your minutes. Anyway, the sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can get back to Rory. And the less time he'll spend worrying." The Doctor aimed his sonic at the hallway door, and she could hear the lock snap open.

"Rory's going to worry no matter what," she argued. "You're not helping." The Doctor walked through the door, and she hurried to catch up. "You need to stop goading him."

"But it's so much fun." The Doctor grinned at her. She let it go — for the moment — in favor of taking a look around. Now this was more like what she was used to seeing when they went somewhere with the Doctor. A big room, full of computer monitors, arrayed like an old-fashioned security room, but with the monitor screens built right into the wall. Some of the screens were blinking with lines of text or charts of some kind, but most of them had video feed.

"Oh my god, it's the Esselar camp," Amy said. The wall of monitors displayed the camp in life-size detail. "Is that real? I mean, is it live? It's still evening, right? I mean, we can't have been out for that long." She pressed her lips together. Rory would have said. "How are they getting shots so close?" The fire on the monitor snapped and popped.

"It's definitely live," the Doctor said. "There's Kaêl." Kaêl was wearing the exact same outfit they'd seen on him only hours ago.

"What's all of this for?" Amy gestured around at the consoles. "They're obviously much more advanced than the Esselar, if they wanted to take over they could do it right now."

The Doctor shook his head. "It's not a military ship. Not that they probably couldn't take over, regardless, but it's not their primary reason for being here." He flipped through the computer console, looking through the main headers. "I think they're here to watch."

"To watch?" Amy repeated. "Like a football game?"

"More like a nature documentary," he said, reminding her of one of their first conversations. "Those cameras... I need to get back down there and get my hands on one of those."

"They're not satellite images," Amy said. "They're on the same level as the people."

The Doctor waved his head from side to side. "It's being transmitted through a satellite system, the long-range data's over here." He hummed to himself. "There must be audio tracking as well. I can't see anyone having this level of visual tracking without audio." He flipped through the computer systems some more, and after a moment the sound of people speaking started to filter through the air. "Well, if nothing else, their sensors are well-hidden, because I didn't catch onto this at all when we were with the Esselar."

"Wow." Amy said. She could hear two people talking about their llama-things, and someone else sharpening a knife. The steady sound of feet moving and cloth shifting sifted in and out. "So they're watching them? Why? To see what happens if they poke them? Don't tell me someone's actually using them for their anthropology homework."

"It's not homework, miss, it's research." Amy started at the unfamiliar voice. The displays cut out and the lights turned up. Standing in a doorway she hadn't seen, on the far side of the room from where they entered, was a man she didn't recognize. No, she did recognize him. He'd been at the Esselar camp. That was the man the Doctor had been following. But he was no longer dressed in wholecloth and leathers. He was wearing some sort of military uniform — a dark blue jacket with epaulettes, grey trousers with a red stripe up the side, and riding boots. Amy gave him an automatic appreciative glance before she remembered their situation and scowled at him instead. The Doctor appeared to be sizing the man up as well.

"My name is Commander Hallison. I apologize for not introducing myself earlier," he continued, "the sterilization procedure should have kept you unconscious a while longer."

" _Sterilization?!_ "

"I think he means decontamination, Amy," the Doctor broke in. "To make sure we're not bringing in any harmful bacteria from the planet. Most advanced societies incorporate it into their transport technology so it's not noticed, but a few haven't advanced quite that far, and have to use the old fashioned method."

" _And_ to see if you've brought anything dangerous onto the planet," Commander Hallison continued snottily. "Judging by the effort you went to in disguising your extraplanetary origins from a primitive culture, one can only imagine what kind of medical precautions you took."

The Doctor held himself perfectly still. He had that look on his face that said he was trying very hard not to laugh in your face. "And did you find any contaminants, Commander?"

The Commander didn't even hesitate before he replied "No, I did not. But I've no way of knowing that unless I check." He gave the two of them a cold look. "And bacterial inundation would just be the icing on the cake, with the chaos you two have caused."

"Chaos?" Amy repeated. "We just got here. All we've done is make friends with a llama-thing."

"Claiming ignorance isn't going to help your case," Hallison said. He looked down his nose at them from his slightly elevated position. "You're both under arrest, for interfering with the development of a primitive culture; inciting violence; murder; and interfering with a Federated Regime investigation." A beam lit up from the ceiling and started tracking towards them. Amy had no idea what it was, and she didn't want to find out.

"You can't arrest us," the Doctor protested, backing away as well.

"Of course I can. I can also add 'resisting arrest' to the charges."

"No, you can't arrest us because we're not citizens of the Federated Regime of the Eastern Colfax System. You can only hold us for interstellar trial, but you can't execute charges on your own." Something had apparently clicked in the Doctor's brain. "And if this is a primitive culture, then they can't be a _part_ of the Federated Regime, so any claim you make on their behalf is ethically suspect, and inadmissible without incontrovertible evidence, which you don't have, because we've only been on this planet half a day. There's no way you've got all this set up for half a day's investigation." He waved his hand around at the room.

"We're lightyears into the Federated Regime's territory," Hallison retorted, beginning to sound annoyed. "Any visitor into Regime space agrees to abide by our laws."

"Unless they're on a diplomatic investigation." The Doctor fumbled for the psychic paper. "I think you'll find we have full clearance to be here, Commander."

The light stopped moving as Hallison took the wallet from the Doctor, inspecting the paper. "Coronal emissions inspection? I don't see what that has to do with the Shadow Proclamation."

"Not much now, but it will in forty years or so." The Doctor wiggled his hand back and forth. "It's supposed to be a secret. Very hush hush. Now why don't you tell us what's going on here." He stepped closer.

Hallison looked at the Doctor. "Secret. Dressed like that?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Nobody ever minds. You know, I had a friend like you once. He gave up on trying to blend in after a while. Sometimes if one thing about a person is odd, it's easier to overlook any additional eccentricities. But he wasn't with your outfit. So come on, spill."

Hallison hesitated. He looked at the psychic paper, and whatever he saw there seemed to make his mind up for him. "This planet, Geros IV, has two major continents. This northern one has only primitive cultures, but the one to the south is five times the size, and the allied cities there are rapidly approaching spaceflight capability. It's them that we've been studying."

"They've got spaceflight, but they haven't interacted with the other people on their own planet?" Amy asked suspiciously.

Hallison walked away from them to bring up a display of the planet's surface on one of the monitors. "The continents are separated by the ocean, with only a scattering of islands between the two. The salt concentration in the water on this planet is higher than the galactic standard, leading to an inhospitable environment. Probes haven't found any life in it above the bathypelagic zone, suggesting that while pressure-adapted deep-sea creatures are also adapted to the high salinity, the type of marine life that you'd usually find in the fishable areas of the ocean doesn't exist here." Amy guessed she looked confused, because Hallison clarified. "They have no reason to explore the ocean, or ability to survive long voyages if they did. And so they have developed air travel first."

Amy thought about it. "Well that's dumb."

"Amy," the Doctor chided her lightly. "It's perfectly sensible. Just because your planet is two-thirds water doesn't mean everyone finds large bodies of water enjoyable."

"What's life without beaches?" she asked, but had already given in. "All right. So you're actually interested in the other guys."

"Yes," Hallison said. He looked relieved to be back on track. "This is a rare opportunity to study a new culture — integrating itself not only into the Federated Regime, but into a global culture as well." Well. That sounded terribly aggrandistic to Amy. The Doctor winced, but he didn't say anything to Hallison, who did still have the killer death beam, so she decided not to say anything either.

"But it looks like someone else has discovered the Gerosians," Hallison continued, "and has decided to even the playing field between Meremetia and its northern neighbor. As of our report two months ago, only three of the coastal settlements had any kind of metalworking technology. Captain Dehber's report for last month never made it to Central Command, and so after two weeks I came to investigate. What I found was a network of tribes and settlements that suddenly had the fully-developed ability to smelt iron." Hallison raised his eyebrows at them. "Putting aside the fact that there is no asteroid belt in the Gerosian system, and that smelting iron is a technology that requires _years_ to perfect, there are no deposits of workable iron ore available to the northern continent without concentrated effort. Someone is playing around with the development of an entire band of cultures." Nice words from someone who seemed to be interested in doing the same himself.

"And you're sure no one from the southern continent has simply found their way up there?" the Doctor asked. "With flight capability, surely that's a possibility."

"An unlikely one. Their flight is limited to within their continent. Until they achieve orbital flight, they have no reason to look further afield. They're keeping to themselves for the moment. Meanwhile I've been here a week, and the monitors haven't picked up anything unusual until the two of you showed up." He kept saying 'two.' Had he not noticed Rory, Amy wondered. Even Rory's usual brand of quiet didn't mean he should be unnoticeable among a bunch of pastoral llama-herders.

"Well, let's see if we can't put that to rest, then," the Doctor said. He clapped his hands together. "Coworker disappeared on you, eh? I'm sure he went to investigate himself and got caught up in something nasty. Better if we go with you — I've found that splitting up is a bad idea in situations like this."

"When is splitting up ever a good idea?" Amy asked, uncomfortably aware that Rory was currently on his own, in what might now be hostile territory.

"When you're being chased by a single party," the Doctor replied easily. "So what do you say, Commander, will you let us help?"

  


He always forgot how much quicker work went when someone let you in, rather than having to sneak in the back way. Well, possibly he purposely forgot because it was less fun that way, but the Doctor supposed that every once in a while he should make that trade. Also, the computer system Hallison introduced him to was obviously meant for limited human interaction; its processing was automated to a ridiculous degree. He sped through all of the background data, looking for anything of actual interest.

"All right," he said at last. Amy looked up from her text message conversation with Rory. "First thing we have to do is find your friend Dehber."

Hallison looked confused. "But he's dead."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Do you have a body?" A little harsh, but Hallison was a lot thick. "What you have is him suddenly disappearing off your radar at the same time as these stone age people suddenly progressing in technology. These two things are much more likely to be related to each other than a mysterious third party coming in. Especially with no reports of suspicious activity, or of Dehber taking leave. Whatever happened, he did it on his own."

"Dehber's a Federated citizen!" Hallison protested. Boy, he really _was_ thick. "He's been working here for five years! He wouldn't give up his position for that."

"He's been observing these people for five years and you don't think he's formed some kind of an attachment?" Amy asked.

"It doesn't take five years to form an attachment," the Doctor said.

Hallison shook his head. "No."

"Well, provide us with a body, then," he snapped. "Are Federated officers still microchipped before they're commissioned?"

Hallison shook his head, confusion still evident on his face.

Amy raised an eyebrow. "They're not dogs."

"Close enough. You should look into that, Commander." Hallison and Amy both glared at him. He ignored it. "In the meantime, let's see what trouble I _can_ prove Dehber's gotten up to." Given what he'd seen, he had a suspicion that Hallison hadn't done as thorough a review of the records as he could have. Certainly not as thorough as the Doctor could do. He flipped through a couple hundred files, mentally composing a timeline of activity, and after ten minutes pulled a few things up to illustrate his point.

"There. Who are these people?" The Doctor squinted at the screen. "The Rengu. They seem to be the biggest group in the mountain ranges. Sort of a cowboy mafia — sending out raiding parties and running protection scams on their targets."

"Hang on, these are the people that attacked the Esselar, aren't they?" Amy spoke up.

"Wouldn't surprise me in the least," the Doctor said. He checked the visual network, and a few long-range shots of some sort of skirmish popped up. "Make that a definite yes," he corrected. "They also seem to be the biggest users of the new technology. Raids on two producing villages that left them empty —" He frowned, and corrected himself. "They're targeting the villages that have been noted as developing ironworking, and swooping up the whole thing. Moving them elsewhere? Integrating them? That's a lot of people to haul along."

"Then why did they attack the Esselar?" Amy asked. "They're not using iron."

"Resources for all the people they're picking up?" he guessed. "Bad guesswork? The Esselar are in the same area but they haven't picked up any new hobbies, maybe that's why they got off so lightly in the end."

"The Rengu have been established for decades in the area as an opportunistic band," Hallison interrupted coldly. "Of course they would take advantage of any new developments in the area."

"But finding out about them so quickly?" The Doctor argued. "When the technology is rising faster than it should already? Either they're being used to spread the technology and its users around the continent, or someone is informing them of the technology and giving them their head. It's too specific to be a coincidence."

"Maybe it is Dehber, and he's using them to remove all the evidence so he doesn't have to report it," Amy suggested.

"The Captain would do no such thing," Hallison insisted stiffly. "He'd risk losing his rank." At least this time he wasn't arguing that Dehber must be dead. It was progress, of a sort.

"What's Captain Dehber look like, anyway?" Amy asked. She had her phone out again.

"About the same height as the Doctor, but with more muscle to him. Short black hair, possibly with a beard, if he was trying to blend in. Constant frown on his face." Hallison tilted his face up, trying to recall some detail. "Knife scars on his ribs, though that's probably not helpful. Missing his right leg."

Amy raised an eyebrow. "That's probably a better identifying mark than the scars."

Hallison shrugged. "Not with a prosthetic. But when it comes time to identify a body —"

"All right, let's see if we can't find him down there." The Doctor flexed his fingers and started searching. While the description was helpful, it wasn't something he could use to narrow any search parameters, missing leg or no. So he narrowed things down the old fashioned way. Dehber would be with the iron. The Rengu camp only had five major heat signatures. Four were arranged in a ragged diamond, roughly bounding the camp. The fifth was not at the center, but off to one side, and near the edge. And it had no cameras trained on it. He growled in frustration. "If Dehber's with the Rengu, this is where he must be. This is the only spot in the camp not covered by cameras." He pointed. "Even if it's not, it's still suspicious enough to check out."

Hallison frowned. "The surveillance system is intact. There are no blind spots."

"Well I've got one right here." He stabbed at the screen with one finger.

Hallison leaned in, unhappy. "But the surveillance system is intact."

"Then somebody either moved some of the cameras, or is blocking them from inside the computer system. Do you really think the Rengu, the Esselar, or anyone else down there, is capable of that?"

Hallison remained silent.

"So what're we going to do if we can't beam this guy up?" Amy asked. She moved to join them, leaning on the Doctor's shoulder to look at the screen. "Let's go down there and get him."

"You can't be serious." Hallison looked from Amy's frown to the Doctor's. "No," he said firmly. "The Regime strictly forbids interference with undeveloped cultures."

"To the point where you can't go in and get rid of the guy who's interfering?" Amy said, both eyebrows raised.

"If we could isolate the person — and I'm _not_ agreeing that it's Dehber — then yes. But the risks of going down there and walking into the middle of a Rengu camp are too high."

"You were perfectly willing to walk into the Esselar camp," Amy said. She turned a little to look at Hallison more closely, crossing her arms.

Hallison shifted from one foot to the other. "They're a less aggressive group. The chances of conflict were —"

"You're afraid of them!" Amy exclaimed. She stepped away from the Doctor to poke Hallison in the chest. He backed up quickly, staring at her with wide eyes. "Big, space station military bloke with monitors and laser guns and transport beams is afraid of the natives who just invented swords! How the hell did you even agree to come out here?"

There was an uncomfortable silence that tasted exactly like colonialism to the Doctor. "I have my orders," Hallison said at last, brittle.

Amy sighed and turned back to the Doctor. "How come I don't get a fun space captain? Just the ones that want to shrink me and play by the rules."

"I don't think Hallison here wants to shrink you." The Doctor shrugged. "I like the change of pace, myself. Look, Commander, how about we invoke our authority as — what was it, agents of the Shadow Proclamation? — And just go over your head?"

Hallison looked relieved as he nodded.

"Then that's settled. I'm ordering you to send us back to the Esselar." The Doctor crossed his arms, trying to look authoritative. It might've worked better if he was standing. Or not still trying to lean against someone who'd moved across the room. "We'll investigate from there, so I'm also ordering you to not go anywhere. Try figuring out what actually happened to your missing officer, though, why don't you?"

Hallison was all too quick to agree. Amy didn't trust him as far as she could throw him, but she was visibly more concerned with getting back to Rory and figuring out what was going on than worrying about the nervous man who was unqualified to babysit a monitoring station. The Doctor couldn't resist the urge to put his arm around her shoulders in a half hug. She bumped her shoulder against him, and his stomach felt warm for a moment before he realized it was just the transmat beam.

  


"How long have we been gone?" Amy asked as they trudged down the hillside towards the encampment, sliding a little in the mud. It was spitting down rain, making it hard to look anywhere but down. She winced. The rain wasn't heavy, just _hard_ , like the gravity was extra strong or the clouds were angry.

The Doctor didn't glance at his watch, which would have required taking his hands out of his pockets. "I don't know, half an hour?"

Amy rolled her eyes. "It's been hours, at least." The sun was up, but in their faces, the shadows coming from the wrong direction. "Were we out all night? Rory's going to be mad."

Rory was, in fact, not mad. He was asleep. He'd nabbed all three of the blankets and rolled them around himself into a cocoon, with only his nose sticking out. Even his eyes were covered, which was probably how he'd slept so long — the tent material let through a fair amount of light.

"Great. We could've been who knows where, and my husband decides to sleep through it." Amy eyed the blankets. There was no way she was getting one of those off him.

"Did not," the blanket pile replied. Rory uncurled a little, shooting a sleepy glare at her. "I was up half the night watching semi-llamas bite each other, since _someone_ promised to take a guard shift, then went off exploring all night instead. In the dark. With my wife." He said the last part with no real ire.

"Oh, shut it." The Doctor was unconcerned as well. He patted Rory's back. "And give your wife a blanket before she decides to take her clothes off in front of me, too."

Rory sighed and sat up, noticing at last that they were both soaked. He unwound his cocoon and sorted out the blankets, folding and tossing one to the Doctor, and holding the other up so Amy could change in relative privacy into something dry. She pulled him closer when she was done, draping the one blanket over their shoulders and keeping the other one over their laps, nice and warm from his body heat. He put an arm around her waist, and she tucked her hands under his shirt.

Rory winced. "Your fingers are _cold_."

"It's nearly winter, and it's raining out." She shook her head. "Is it going to stop raining at any point?"

"They call it the rainy season for a reason," the Doctor said, and flopped down opposite them. He'd shed his jacket and shoes, but otherwise hadn't changed clothes, wrapping his blanket around himself instead. Amy was reminded of the Dream Lord and the ponchos again. "It might be days before the weather clears up." The Doctor's hair fell forward into his eyes, water beading on the ends. He must be cold, but he didn't show it. Instead, he started filling Rory in on everything they had learned.

They sat in their borrowed tent, listening to the rain fall on its roof. Rory watched it suspiciously, but the waxed felt cloth was perfectly watertight, though the air remained damp. The Doctor hunched in on himself, then pulled something out of his pocket. It was glowing, and about the size of a paperback, but thinner.

"What is that?" Amy asked. It looked like an e-reader, which was ridiculous.

"Tablet computer," the Doctor replied. "I found it on the station. Thought I'd borrow it." He flicked through it. "It's got a downlink from their main computer archive. Interesting reading."

Rory sighed, but didn't say anything. "And when Hallison finds it missing?" Amy asked for him. Though she doubted he would. The man had proven himself to be almost completely computer illiterate. He was the worst spaceship captain she'd ever met, without a doubt.

The Doctor shrugged. "He'll probably think it was Dehber. I can't read the mission reports, not without spending time I don't want to waste breaking the encryption, but based on what I can access, Hallison wasn't lying. He's going back to simple observation. The Rengu are gearing up for a war, and he's just going to watch. When he's responsible."

"He's not even looking for Dehber?" Amy asked, surprised. She leaned forward a little. "He's just going to assume the man is dead? What if he's got family? He can't even pretend to be responsible on that level." Rory rubbed her back and she settled against him again, upset.

The Doctor nodded reluctantly. "But the Rengu still have an unfair advantage. The natural evolution of these cultures has been severely destabilized." He put the tablet down, crossing his arms over his chest. "Defending the Esselar isn't the problem. It's keeping down the amount of damage the Rengu will do. We need to send in someone who knows what they're planning, and can slow it down gradually."

"But the Esselar don't know what's going on either," Amy pointed out. "None of the people do, since Dehber has been sweeping up all the evidence with him. And won't that just spread the cultural contamination?"

"Right. That's why we're sending Rory."

"What?" Rory looked up at the Doctor, surprised.

The Doctor waved his tablet. "The Rengu leader is traditionally female, so we can't send Amy, they'd see that as a sign of aggression. And I have to stay here and keep an eye on the outpost. Also, they're a warrior culture." Amy expected the Doctor to mention Rory's time as a Centurion, but instead he said "I'd be too inclined to find a peaceful solution. We have to play along with whatever they decide, and just try to minimize the damage."

"And how bad will it be if the Rengu take over?" Rory asked.

"If they win, they'll mine the land for iron and use the Esselar as laborers," the Doctor said bluntly. "Even if the Esselar could overthrow them, the land would be ruined, and they'd be unable to survive on it, or maintain their current way of living."

"And if the Esselar win?" Rory asked. "What's to stop the Rengu from just waiting for us to leave and then trying again?"

The Doctor paused. "I'm still working on that," he admitted. He shifted a little in his blanket.

"And you said there was a whole other continent with people developing spaceflight. What about them?" The Doctor didn't respond.

Amy elbowed Rory in the ribs. He sighed. "All right, I'll give it a shot. Buy you some time."

"Thank you," the Doctor said. His voice came out in sort of a growl. Amy leaned forward to elbow him, and realized he had his jaw clenched. And the air that hit her exposed skin was freezing.

"Doctor, are you all right?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he said, sounding surprised that she'd asked. "Why?"

"You look about a step away from turning blue." He did, really. Rory frowned as well.

"I'm fine, just a bit damp," the Doctor insisted. "Should dry off pretty quick, so long as I —"

"I'm pretty sure your sonic doesn't have a 'dry' setting, or a 'heat' setting," Rory interrupted. "Was your plan to drip dry? You —" he interrupted himself, shaking his head. "There's another fleece in the corner. Put that on and get over here."

The Doctor looked away. "No, I should really do some work on —"

"On making sure your fingers don't fall off," Amy interrupted this time. "You can read later, warm up first. The Rengu aren't going anywhere."

The Doctor gave her a look, but complied. Rory took his blanket and put it on top of the others, so the dampness could evaporate off rather than soak in. The Doctor edged in on the far side of Rory, but Rory frowned again.

"Okay, you're colder than Amy was. Get in the middle."

"Timelords run cooler than humans naturally," the Doctor protested.

Rory put his hand on the back of the Doctor's neck. The Doctor yelped and tried to pull away. "In the middle," Rory said. "I'm not warm enough to warrant that reaction. _Can_ you actually shiver?" he asked, suddenly sounding more concerned. He pulled any extra blanket he could towards the Doctor.

The Doctor smiled. "Yes. I just don't like the way it feels like my teeth are rattling around in my skull. Don't worry."

Rory sighed, and looked over to Amy with a shrug. "I _was_ going to take a nap — I'd only got about three hours when you showed up."

"I could nap," Amy said. She wasn't tired, though maybe she should be. But the idea of nodding off with both her boys, while the rain stayed firmly on the other side of the tent, sounded really appealing.

" _I'm_ not tired," the Doctor pointed out.

"Then why don't you try hacking that Kindle you nicked," Rory said.

"It's not a Kindle, it's — what's the shiny one, an iPod?"

"iPad," Amy corrected.

"Yes. It's more like that."

"Whatever," Rory said, lying back down, the blankets shifting with him. "Just so long as it doesn't beep a lot. Actually, I could probably sleep through it even then."

"You can sleep through anything," Amy agreed. She lay down too, and tugged the Doctor with her when he just watched. She adjusted the blankets again. "Don't wake us up 'til it's time to move, all right?" She closed her eyes without waiting for a reply.

  


Amy woke slowly. She was nice and warm, wrapped in something soft. But something kept digging at her side — an elbow? She poked back, trying to turn away.

"Sorry, Pond," the Doctor murmured.

That woke her up. She opened her eyes, finally remembering where they were. The sun was shining brightly through the fabric now, and she could hear the sounds of others moving outside. "I said to wake me up," she hissed.

"Sorry. I figured I'd let Rory sleep as long as he could." The Doctor shrugged with one shoulder, playing with the tablet again.

"He's not sleeping," Amy said, at the same time that Rory said the same thing.

Rory didn't sound awake, though. He yawned. "Sorry."

The Doctor eyed him. "You _were_ asleep a minute ago. How light a sleeper are you?"

"Pretty light. Always have been, it's not a nurse thing. Also, you've been using my thigh as a keyboard for twenty minutes now."

The Doctor pulled his hand to his chest. "Oh, sorry. Didn't realize that was your thigh."

"Whose thigh did you think it was?" Amy asked, rolling over to look at them properly. Rory was in his usual position on his side, the creases on his cheek suggesting his head had been resting on the Doctor's other shoulder.

The Doctor didn't dignify her remark with a reply. Instead, he set the tablet down. "Down to business, then. We'll kit Rory out then see if we can't track down the Rengu. You know how to ride a horse, right, Rory?"

Rory sighed and sank back down into the blankets.


	3. Chapter 3

There he was, sitting at the crest of the hill, as Juttar had reported. It was an excellent place to keep watch from — seated on a jut of rock, he kept off the damp grass but kept as low a profile as possible, the dull colors of his cloak and leathers helping him to blend into the landscape. The lean of his spine followed the same angle as the rocks around him, though obviously his own edges were softer than the harsh rock. Still, from there he had a solid view of both sides of the hill, and by the time they came within speaking distance, he was watching them, eyes hard.

"You look a long way from home," Rashar said. No need for introductions just yet.

The man shrugged. He was inspecting one of a matching pair of arm braces, the other on his wrist, but it was an obvious pretense while he looked them over. He had shaggy reddish-brown hair, and a prominent nose. A slight frown was fixed on his face, and he had the beginning of frown lines on his forehead, though he appeared young otherwise. "That depends on what I'm calling home."

What. Not where. "And what are you planning to call home tonight? It's the middle of the rain season, and you don't have any more protection than your cloak." Not likely to be a thief, then.

Again, he shrugged. "I'll find something. I always do, whether I ask for it or not."

But not impossible. Rashar shared a glance with Juttar. He nodded.

"That's an interesting attitude to have," Juttar said. The stranger glanced at him briefly, then went back to reworking his arm-braces. His leathers were beautifully tooled, fine enough to make her jealous. He couldn't have been on his own for long. He definitely didn't have the hands to have done the work himself. "It looks to me that you have lost as much as you've found."

To their surprise, he laughed at that. "I've lost a lot. But I always get it back." He put the brace back on. "And anyone who calls it luck is mistaken." He flexed his arm, testing the fit.

"And where are you headed now, with your luck and your cloak, and nothing else? Fruit-gathering?" She egged him a little, annoyed by his vague answers.

"I'm headed for the coast; hopefully I can find new employment there. The temple I used to guard is gone, and I haven't got a regiment to move on with."

"What happened to them?"

"They died." He looked at her. "I didn't."

"You're either very skilled, then, or a traitor," she replied, not breaking his gaze.

"I'm good at surviving."

"Just surviving?"

"I can fight."

"Would you care to show your skills, then? If you fight well, I may be able to save you a trip to the coast."

He didn't ask what she needed a guard for. "I don't have a blade," he said, eyeing hers.

"You may borrow one of mine. If we decide to take you on, there will be many battles where you may win one of your own to keep, and not be beholden to another for weaponry." She held out her shorter sword. She was tempted to give him one of the new, longer ones, but that wouldn't be a fair trial.

The stranger took it and inspected it. Satisfied, he nodded. "You will fight for five minutes," she declared, "or until your opponent is pinned. And pinned only, do you understand? I have no desire to hide a carcass from the carrion today." A nod from both men. "Good. Then fight."

Juttar didn't give the stranger time to go on the defensive. He attacked quickly, bringing his sword up in a straight charge. The stranger backed up quickly, dodging slightly to the right, putting the ridge of rock between them and breaking Juttar's stride as he was forced to go around, choosing a side. Juttar moved to the right, but the stranger was already moving back — a feint! — throwing a high attack to Juttar's head. Juttar blocked it, but the movement left his chest open for a fierce kick. He grabbed at the stranger's leg, but missed. Rather than turn the miss into an opening at his back, Juttar rolled with it in a full-body lunge, and the two of them rolled down the hill a few feet. Rashar couldn't see anything for a minute, then they were both springing back up, swords still in hand. There was a scrape across the stranger's cheek, and a line of blood on Juttar's arm.

This time they moved in a slow circle. Juttar was slightly favoring his left leg. Rashar wasn't the only one to notice. The stranger swung low this time, aiming for the side of the knee. Juttar twisted out of the way, but the movement put more pressure on the injured limb, and he slowed further. But his arms were still good, and he struck out, moving so fast that the stranger didn't have time to reverse his blade, catching the edge on the hilt instead. Which saved his neck, but gave him no leverage to push the sword away. Juttar pressed forward, trying to break through with sheer strength. The stranger wilted, and Juttar made to press him to the ground when the stranger dropped entirely, ducking and spinning to the side. The sudden loss of support, combined with the injured leg sent Juttar to the ground instead, and the stranger's sword was at his throat just as Rashar called "Hold!"

They stayed frozen, both of them breathing heavily, as she approached. The stranger surrendered the sword easily when she held out her hand for it, though he remained tense, and didn't look away from Juttar, though Juttar looked like he would be going nowhere for at least five minutes.

"You fight well," she said. "You could do well, should you choose to join us." He didn't reply to the invitation. "Will you eat with us tonight? Rest, sleep, and decide for yourself in the morning?"

"Something more than my cloak over my head tonight sounds a fair prize for winning," he said at last.

She nodded. "Come, then. The rest of our camp is this way. I am Rashar, the leader of the Rengu. What is your name?"

"Rory." And he said no more, silently following them down the hill.

  


The Rengu camp was a sprawling thing, massive, spread out in the valley like a patchwork quilt, dotted here and there with fires and lean-tos. No large tents like the Esselar's — there were some cloth ones, but they looked like they were designed for quick construction, and less for weather proofing. It was easily twice the size of the Esselar camp, and that was before you accounted for the horses. Horse-things. Whatever they were. Rory still hadn't ridden one yet, but following Juttar and Rashar back to the camp, he'd gotten to look at them close up. Their hooves were wickedly sharp, and their teeth — well, they couldn't be meat-eating if the Esselar used them for herding, right?

He'd probably find out tomorrow. Arriving in the middle of the night meant most of the Rengu he passed were looking at him warily. Still, he had a place to bed down for the rest of the night, if he could relax enough to fall asleep (unlikely). The lean-to looked more waterproofed than the tents, though the rain wasn't coming down at the moment. And there was no wind. In fact, he hadn't noticed much wind the entire time they'd been on this planet. Instead the rain just fell on you like it was poured out of a bucket, or from a showerhead. Rory rearranged the pack he was sitting on and stared out at the camp, tracing a path between the fires. The Doctor had given him a good idea of where in the camp to look for Dehber, but now that he was here, the ground he had to cover seemed much bigger.

The sound of someone approaching caught his ear, and he tensed slightly. It was Juttar, and from the awkward shuffle of his movements, he was still limping from the beating Rory had given him. Rory frowned, and before he could think better of it, called out, "Haven't you got anyone to take a look at that for you?" Juttar stopped and glared at him. It took everything Rory had in him not to throw his hands up and back off. "If you let that get infected you'll be worse off than just a temporary setback. Might never walk straight again." An overstatement, but it didn't matter.

After a tense moment, Juttar spoke. "Have to let it bleed the poison out."

Rory's brain stumbled to a halt. "The — you fought me with a blade that you _knew_ was poisoned?!"

Juttar shrugged. "Didn't think you'd land a hit. You fight well for such a runt." Rory's ears burned but he didn't say anything. He just reached for the bindings on Juttar's leg. Juttar stepped away. "It's not lethal. Just slows your opponent down some. For _gir_ to do serious damage you'd have to eat it, the blood loss will do you in before the _gir_ knocks you out."

It didn't sound too bad. But still. No one had spoken to him yet, and if he wanted to find out any information, either about the Rengu or about Dehber, he had to start somewhere. "Let me take a look at it anyway. It's been hours now, you're just stiffening up." He'd had the advantage of walking to the camp, helping to ease any soreness from the fight out of his system. "I know a little medicine; had some training when I was younger."

Juttar laughed. "Could hardly get much younger. But all right." He turned back towards the nearest fire and Rory grabbed his pack and followed him.

"You're trained in combat and healing, and your people let you leave home?" Juttar watched Rory carefully as he checked the wound — less red than he thought it would be, fortunately.

"I'm not anything special, at home," he replied carefully. "Plenty of people have more experience and training than me. In both fields. I just like traveling. Which surprised even me." It really had. Sometimes it still did. He tried not to analyse it too deeply.

"Where are you from, then, that you aren't counted among the highly trained?" Juttar asked. His tone was casual, but Rory could recognize a friendly press for information when he heard it.

"Oh, north of here, before the river splits," he said quickly, hoping there was a river north of them, and that it split.

Juttar tensed, and for a moment Rory thought he'd been caught out. "Ballasrar?"

"Um, no?" Rory said, startled enough to forget his rough demeanour. "Haven't heard of it, sorry."

Juttar examined him again, suspicious again. "If I find out you are from Ballasrar, then I will kill you, no matter how much training you may have gained in your bedeviled town."

Rory mentally pushed his stomach back down into his chest and kept Juttar's gaze. "Like I said, haven't heard of the place."

"Everyone's heard of Ballasrar. The shining city."

"Grew up in a really small town. Headed east when I left. You're going to have to fill me in if you want me to know what I've just stepped into."

"Rashar will probably tell you most of this when she has you swear fealty to her tomorrow. If she doesn't expect you to know already. It's been generations, but it's all many of us still talk about. Especially the elders, back at Kunisar."

Rory frowned. "I thought this was all of you. I mean, everyone says 'the Rengu,' and they mean this." He gestured around them. Finished bandaging Juttar's wounds to his satisfaction, he sat back.

"No. It's dark yet, and you've only been here a few hours, so I'll forgive you not noticing the lack of anyone too young, too old, or too unfit to fight." Rory cursed internally. Even if he shouldn't have noticed, Hallison or the Doctor should have. "A long time ago, maybe eighty or a hundred years, we ruled the great city of Ballasrar. But then invaders came, up from the coast, and drove us from our home. We have sworn to one day regain it, but nothing has come of it so far." Juttar sighed. "As our leader, Rashar has promised us much, but she's said nothing of Ballasrar. Some are beginning to talk. Especially with our misfortune of late."

"Oh? I thought you guys were doing pretty good of late," Rory replied, then caught Juttar's look. "Really — active."

Juttar's face clouded momentarily with some unrecognizable emotion — Rory didn't know him well enough to read him. "I should let Rashar explain that. If anyone can. Besides, you aren't officially a member of the Rengu yet." He leaned back. "Time was, we didn't let outsiders in like this. But lately, Rashar's been allowing it. People are talking. I don't know if it's some plan she has, or just circumstances, but —" he shrugged. "Well, you've proven yourself worthy of joining our ranks. Now you just have to prove your loyalty."

"Is it a blood oath?" Rory asked, curious.

"Not for an outsider; your blood's no good. No, it's a life oath."

Seeing as they weren't going to kill him to gain his allegiance, Rory could live with a little fibbing in this case. Better than bloodletting, or anything risking immunocological interaction. "Is that first thing in the morning? What do I need to do?"

"Nothing. Rashar has kept us here several days now. She hasn't announced our next target yet. You'll find out with the rest of us." Rory was going to ask about that, but Juttar stood. "You've managed to impress me, so here's some advice. Many of us aren't happy that Rashar is letting in outsiders. Be respectful. Stay quiet. And show them you've brought your arm to bear for our strength. Hard work is what impresses best." He clapped a hand to Rory's shoulder. Rory managed not to fall over. "Good night."

"Night," Rory replied quietly, and wondered again what he'd got himself into.

  


"Another sigh like that and we could make better time attaching a sail to this thing. Bored, Pond?" The Doctor carefully didn't look up from the tablet, which had ceased to entertain him an hour ago, but the only other distraction was Amy, and she was short-tempered enough as it was with not enough sleep. Or maybe too much. Or not enough tea? Hard to tell, with humans.

Amy frowned at him, and he frowned back. She smacked his arm. "Not funny. I can't believe you're letting Rory have all the fun. Actually, no, I can."

"You think taking up with raiders is fun?"

"Definitely! The two of you are always so over-protective. I tell you what, next time we come across pirates or Vikings, it's my turn to get my Xena on," she grumbled, her Scots accent getting thicker.

"Of course, Pond." Mentally, he crossed Norway off his list of places to visit.

"Have you heard from him yet?" she asked after a moment.

Ah. So there was what was really bothering her. "Give him time. The Rengu aren't on the move every day like the Esselar are; it's probably harder for him to get the time alone to contact us again. And the Rengu are more likely to be suspicious of anything odd."

Rory had sent a text to Amy's phone early in the morning, just as the sun was starting to climb its way towards the mountain, tinting the sky with light. He didn't have much to say besides that he'd made it into the Rengu camp, and that there might be a second one somewhere. No word yet on Dehber, not that the Doctor had been expecting anything so soon. Though it would have been nice if Rory had come across something that would give them a direction to go in.

"So what?" Amy asked, turning to him, arms crossed. "You're just going to sit here and wait? That's not like you."

"Normally I'm not trying to sneak around behind someone's back. You know I'm the 'ask questions first, ask more questions later' type," he said. "Hallison has agreed to let us take the lead on this, but I don't want to do anything that'll get him nervous and try to stop us, too."

"Normally you wouldn't care less." Amy looked around. "Wait, is he watching us?"

The Doctor waved the tablet. "He can't redirect all the surveillance drones, either because he doesn't want to take his eye off the Rengu or because he doesn't know how, but he has redirected a couple our way. They're pretty fuzzy, and I can throw interference at them, but I don't want to tip my hand too much by turning them off entirely." Maybe once he knew where they were going. But right now letting Hallison play I Spy would let him feel like he was doing his job without it causing more chaos.

"If he's going to keep watching all of this, we're going to need a way to distract him."

"What we really need is to make sure that he doesn't contact his superiors. If they hear about members of the Shadow Proclamation taking interest in this planet, that'll only get their backs up." He waved the tablet. "I can get into the computer systems with this, but I can only do so much. I'd be able to do a lot more if I had a better link in." He looked at her carefully.

Amy looked back at him, a grin spreading across her face. "What do you need me to do?"

  


If he was honest with himself, Rory wasn't sure what the Doctor was expecting him to do here. He was surprising himself with the fact that he hadn't run off in terror or confessed himself yet.

Well — not really, because neither of those would speak well to his chances of survival, short-term. Maybe he was still surprised he was here at all.

Though that brought him right back to the problem of what he was supposed to be _doing_ here. The Doctor might make friends wherever he went, but Rory wasn't that sort. He didn't expect Rashar, or Juttar, or any of them, to trust him overnight.

He rubbed his arm absently. The binding part of the ceremony had turned out to be the literal part. He'd spent the gross portion of the day with his arm bound like a splint to Rashar's leg. She'd smiled at him with restrained impatience and told him it was their way of making sure she stayed in one place long enough to do some ruling and not just plundering. Rory was sure it was more likely a practice left over from making sure your newly acquired slaves were close at hand to lop their heads off, but he'd said nothing. At least she'd spent the time seated.

So he'd done nothing much all day besides listen in on the everyday squabbles and plotting of prehistoric Vikings and flopping his hand around like a fish whenever Rashar shifted position. They hadn't discussed anything that had sounded remotely like 'let's enslave the local population and mine their land,' which was no doubt due to his presence. They'd discussed enough other stuff that he knew they weren't nice, misunderstood Disney pirates. And hadn't that been a fun movie to watch, his second lifetime round.

Rashar had freed him with a quick slice of a dangerous-looking knife. "Go on, get out of my sight for a while." So he'd gone, and after taking care of some ...pressing business, he was now at loose ends. And he still didn't know anyone else, not to speak to. But they'd recognize him if he poked his face where it didn't belong.

The camp looked emptier than it had last night, without the shadows to add mass and the fires to imply life. Everything looked dull and dreary. Rory pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. He missed his own cloak, that smelled like smoke and cedar, horses and good old British dirt. To hell with it, he decided. He was here to find out about the Rengu, to find Dehber, he might as well poke his nose into things. He remembered discussion of a hunt during the meetings that morning. That was probably where most everyone had gone.

Wandering around the perimeter of the camp, trying to look like he was just getting the lay of the camp, but keeping a low profile, he spotted a single fire still burning. Rory couldn't blame whoever it was — it was cold out, and a wind had finally sprung up. But fires weren't for burning during the day, when smoke could be seen from far away. They were for the night only. So who was it that was allowed to have a fire that anyone could see?

He made his way in the general direction of the fire, indirectly. After twenty minutes he could see its source — it looked like a caravan of some kind. But he still hadn't seen any sign of trees. Something the Rengu had gotten from one of the valley cities? Stolen, probably. But it was big, and sheltered from the elements. So the only reason it might have smoke puffing out of the little chimney on top... He squinted. It might be big enough for a small forge.

No one seemed to take any notice of Rory as he approached the door, but he still startled when he opened the door and somebody spoke up. "Someone finally remember I exist, then? I understand the technique of keeping prisoners hungry and tired, but if you don't feed me at all, I can't make anything for you." Something clattered, and there was a quiet curse.

Rory paused a second, trying to come up with a reply. When it started to stretch on too long, the door wide open, he said "I don't need you to make anything for me." He stepped further into the dim room, and, hoping he wasn't making a mistake, closed the door behind him.

The man slouched in the chair relaxed the squint in his eyes as the light from the door was blocked, but he still looked confused. "You're not one of Rashar's usual retinue," he said gruffly, not rising from his awkward position.

"No, I'm not." This had to be Dehber. The coals glowing merrily in the furnace next to the anvil slab and hammer spoke to that. But he hadn't expected the man to be a prisoner. And the caravan hadn't been locked. Then he saw it. The man was missing his right leg below the knee. There was no sign of a prosthesis in the tiny room. The slouch was from the way his opposite shoulder was lashed to the chair. He had no leverage, no range to reach and try to free himself without tipping over onto the floor. From the angry heat on the man's cheeks, visible beneath the unkempt beard, he was well aware of the humiliation of his position.

"What do you want, then?" Dehber asked. "Same as the others? Or has Rashar decided to whore me out after all?"

Rory flinched. "Rashar hasn't said a thing about you to me. Just wanted to see what was in here." He kicked at one of the feet of the furnace. "Never seen anything like this around here."

"Well you shouldn't." Rory couldn't tell which thing he was talking about, though he supposed both were true. "No one should. This whole thing was a mistake."

Rory ignored the opening, and instead asked "You make this yourself?" He threw some disbelief into his tone, and sure enough, it sparked the other man's pride.

"Make _that_ — it's a box of fire, any idiot should be able to make that." Dehber leaned away from him, settling back in the chair. "I should have known that if you lot weren't even advanced enough for that, you couldn't have handled —" he broke off, lashing out at the table with his free hand. But there was nothing there to hit, and Rory was able to hear him mutter "Fucking autoimmune idiosyncrasies, they deserve something to throw on the fire."

"What?"

"Nothing," Dehber said shortly, making an aborted attempt to cross his arms across his chest. His face flushed with an emotion that Rory suddenly recognized as guilt.

Something struck Rory. "Hang on. Is _that_ why there's so few of them around? And why they were talking about having to replace their entire food supply?" The Doctor hadn't said anything about something happening to the Rengu. But they were cagier than you'd think for pirating terrors of the local economy. Especially ones who had better weapons than anyone else on the continent.

Dehber looked at him sharply. "Who are you really?"

Busted. Rory sighed. Then again, it'd be a lot easier to get a coherent answer this way, and the plan _had_ been to bring Dehber to the Doctor sooner or later. Maybe now it'd be sooner. "An unbiased third party. Or maybe fourth party at this rate, I'm not sure." He shrugged. "But. One that's concerned about your decision to give a bunch of local cultures the trick of metallurgy a couple hundred years ahead of schedule."

Dehber barked out a short laugh. "Out of everything that's happened, that's the least of what you should be concerned about. If I wanted to give them a real chance, it'd be explosives, gunpowder. Cannons and drilling equipment and electrical conduction."

Rory latched onto the one part of the tirade that wasn't an obvious weapon. "Give them a chance against what? The Rengu are already the top of the food chain around here. They've already got the advantage." Dehber didn't reply. "Tell me what happened. You came here of your own free will, you wanted to fix whatever was happening. Maybe we still can."

"You can't bring the dead back to life." This time Dehber sounded haggard. He looked at Rory, no longer struggling. "What do you know? Why I was here?"

"To study the local population. Comparing them with the more advanced civilizations on the other continent, that they haven't made contact with."

"To see if they'd be a more suitable, pliable work force than their more advanced neighbors," Dehber corrected. "The Regime likes nothing better than a new source of labor, especially one that they don't have to pay for. Geros is nicely within the Regime's borders; even if it's been ignored up to now, it's easy for them to claim it as theirs."

"Theirs," Rory repeated. "Not yours."

Dehber shrugged. "I'm not from a citizen planet. I've earned citizenship through military advancement. But my family, my neighbors — they're not so lucky. They're only lucky in comparison to people like the Rengu." He tilted his head back. "Or maybe they're the lucky ones. For not knowing what's coming."

"That's what an Empire does," Rory said, not without sympathy, but, he knew somewhere in the back of his head, not with as much sympathy or disgust as he might have two years ago, or two thousand years ago. Depending on how you looked at it. He pressed on. "But what were _you_ doing?"

"Medical testing," Dehber said at last. His voice was unsteady. "We'd conducted testing on Meremetia already, we weren't expecting there to be much difference in the development of their immune systems. But we were wrong. Standard stasis decontamination protocols triggered an antibody reaction that turned their immune system against them, and before I could figure out what had happened, they were all dead."

"How many?" Rory asked.

"A tenth of the population." Dehber reported the fact with the dead tone of someone who'd gone over it internally a hundred times.

"And you didn't report it?"

Dehber gave him a look. "Do you know what would have happened if I'd reported it? Nothing. Autopsies detected the problem, the decon protocols have been corrected, obviously we could 'move forward.' That's unacceptable."

"So you thought you'd make it up to them?" Rory guessed. He wasn't following Dehber's logic.

Dehber started yanking at his bound arm again. "It was just too much. It threw back in my face how much the Regime doesn't care about its people except as resources. I didn't want to see another planet reduced to that. And I thought, if I could give them a way to fight back, it might make up for some of what I'd done."

Rory thought for a minute, then reached for his knife and cut through the leather straps tying Dehber to his chair. "They didn't need your help to fight back, did they?"

"No." Dehber leaned forward, but otherwise he didn't move. "I can't imagine what they'd do if they knew I was responsible."

"If you didn't announce yourself, how did you find them?"

"I didn't find them, really. I let them 'capture' me — I've been watching them for months, I've got their raiding route analysed. All I had to do was set myself in their path, and let their curiosity and acquisitiveness do the rest." He shrugged. "Works on the big and the small."

"What it did was get others captured as well," Rory shot back. "You baited them by sharing the ironworks with others, and let the Rengu snatch them up." Dehber looked unrepentant.

Rory wanted to ask about his leg, but it was obviously nowhere in the caravan, and Dehber was prickly enough as it was, so he left it, for now. "So now you're making them better weapons, mobilising the countryside. What're you going to do after that? Even if they're better fighters than one man, or more familiar with the countryside than their neighbors, that's still not enough to defeat an interstellar Regime."

Dehber said nothing.

"Let me help."

  


"Hey, loverboy!" Amy grinned at Rory's face on the tiny screen of her phone. "Howzit?"

Rory shrugged, barely visible. "Other than the training, it's kind of boring, actually. I'm sure it's not as much fun as you think I'm having."

"I doubt that. Either way, you're having more fun than us," Amy huffed.

Rory smiled that little smile that meant he thought she was exaggerating, but didn't dare argue. "The Doctor around, then?"

Amy made a face. "He's around somewhere, not like there's much to do 'til we get where we're going." Kaêl had said they should reach Lamána by midafternoon, but he'd said that before the sun was even up, which hadn't pleased Amy at all. "You want me to find him? I'm sure he's dying for an excuse to do something." She hopped up before Rory could actually answer and hurried up the string of people, animals and carts.

"Oi, bored-face, Rory's on the line," she waved the phone at him.

"Oh, thank goodness," the Doctor muttered. He stepped out of the line for a moment, then spied one of the sledges pulled by a group of the semi-llamas, and hopped on the back, giving Amy a lift in next to him. Their hips bumped up next to each other, and the Doctor favored Rory's impatient face with a bright grin. "Hello, dear!" He waved, and Amy bit back a smile as Rory waved back. "Having fun?"

"Suppose that depends on your definition of fun," Rory replied. More fun than they were having, no doubt. "I've found Dehber, and —" He tilted his head. "I don't know whether he's trustworthy or not, but I believe him. And I think there's a few things Hallison has failed to mention." He filled them in on everything Dehber had told him.

"I don't know much about the Federated Regime specifically," the Doctor said. "But it's a situation I've heard before."

"So what are we going to do?" Rory asked.

"You were right when you told Dehber that one small group can't stand against the Regime alone. But I don't think they are standing alone. Dehber can't be the only one dissatisfied with how things are working. Empires always fall eventually."

Rory nodded, and Amy watched with interest the look that passed between him and the Doctor. "But does that mean it doesn't matter what happens here? If the Regime's going to take control of the planet, does it matter what the Rengu do to the Esselar? They're both going to end up in the same boat."

"Maybe. But it's easier to row together than apart."

"What?" Amy said.

"It's easier to take over new territory if you can pit the locals against each other," Rory explained. "But if instead we can give them a common enemy, then they'll stand a better chance."

"But who's 'them?'" Amy asked. "The Esselar and the Rengu? What about the other people, the Meremetians? The Regime's going to take them all over, not just use these two for labor and leave the rest in peace."

"If they're planning on taking over anyway, why's Hallison so concerned about not showing his face around here?" Rory asked.

"He tried to arrest us, or kill us, before we found out who we were," Amy remembered.

"Kill you?" Rory repeated, startled.

"And then changed his tone once he decided we were with the Shadow Proclamation." The Doctor put his hand to his chin, thinking. "There's got to be something illegal about what they're doing here, or they wouldn't have bothered to stop for the Shadow Proclamation, they're big enough to plow through any minor restrictions."

"Hallison said we're well inside Regime space," Amy pointed out. "Why have they ignored this planet up 'til now? What made them change their minds?"

"If they only recently found out there's an advanced culture, what did they think was there before?" Rory asked. "An empty planet would have been mined for resources. So that leaves these people. So... some kind of endangered species law?"

"Interfering with the development of a primitive culture was one of the charges he threw at us," the Doctor nodded.

"Does the Shadow Proclamation include a rule like that?" Amy asked.

"The Shadow Proclamation isn't a rule, it's a thing," the Doctor corrected. "A police-like organization. Or rather, a treaty enforcement group, much like the Geneva Convention. But their own origins are lost to changes in the timelines, so they consider themselves a galactic police force, yes." There was something unhappy in his tone, but she wasn't sure what it was. Now wasn't the time to press. "But they don't have a rule protecting individual species. Not any more."

"Does the Regime?" Rory asked. "They must, if Hallison was threatening you with that. Would overriding their own rules like this affect the Regime's standing with the Shadow Proclamation?"

The Doctor scrubbed his hands over his face. "I don't know." He growled in frustration. "I'm not a lawyer, I hate lawyers. They're so _boring_." Handing the phone back to Amy, he reached for the tablet he'd nicked, and started scrolling through it. A star chart popped up on the display, zooming out bigger and bigger, different regions outlined in different colors. "Hallison was right, we are lightyears into the Federated Regime. But population-wise, resource-wise, we're well on the edges. For some key resources, terillium, kendrar-nine, iodized chloresium, it's cheaper to buy it from the neighbors than import it from the more populated regions." More areas on the map lit up. "And the neighboring systems are all associated with, if not members of, the Shadow Proclamation," the Doctor concluded. "Probably out of self-defense against this lot."

"So they're in a weak spot," Amy said. The Doctor nodded.

"You think we can get them to back off?" Rory asked.

"Breaking their own laws might not be enough for that," the Doctor said reluctantly. "But it's a place to start from. Amy, go through the records, see what you can find about trade negotiations with any neighboring systems. Mention of the Shadow Proclamation specifically would be good. I'm going to try and find out what resources this planet has specifically — then maybe we can see what ties they're trying to cut." Amy nodded. "Rory, keep on keeping on. You're doing brilliantly. Try to find out anything else Dehber might be willing to share. He'll know what's changed the Regime's mind."

"I'll try. I don't think I'm supposed to know he's there, I don't want to get caught where I'm not supposed to be."

"You are being careful, aren't you?" Amy asked. The Doctor leaned back as unobtrusively as possible, letting her take over the conversation.

"Have you ever known me not to be?" Rory asked, corners of his mouth turning up.

"Once or twice, yeah," Amy said wryly.

He shook his head. "Only when you're around to get me out of trouble."

"Then you'd better stay careful." She pressed back the feeling in her throat, then realized it was only the three of them, and said quickly, "Love you."

A flash of surprise crossed Rory's features, then he grinned at her. "Love you too."

  


The crack of wood against wood above his head as he blocked the blow was hard, like bone snapping without the muffle of flesh. Rory kept his eye on Radín's face, though, and the line of his shoulders, watching for an opening. He knew the sword well enough, it was the staff he needed practice at. Attacking from horseback was unfamiliar to him, but he couldn't get into the practice skirmishes until he was better with the weaponry.

Radín used his height to press down on Rory, and he bent into it, letting the press deepen, before ducking down and out, sweeping the staff one-handed to ensure Radín lost his footing entirely. A quick pull back on the staff and a turn of his foot to face him again just in case it hadn't took, and he was on his guard again. But it wasn't necessary; Radín was resting on his elbows in the mud, hands flat. He grinned up at Rory.

"You learn fast, for someone who claims to not have worked with staff or horses before."

Rory shrugged, a little uncomfortable. "Had training. But it was a long time ago, and I haven't needed to practice."

"You should always keep in practice. Otherwise what's the point of being trained?"

Rory just cocked his head to the side, working out a crick in his neck. He watched as Radín picked himself up. Daily training was paying off in that the rest of the fighters — nearly everyone in camp, except the injured and half a dozen others that he'd seen — were starting to warm up to him. At least they liked it if he could beat them, or come close. Part of him, he could admit to himself, had been afraid that they'd dislike him for it. The rest of him had been afraid he wouldn't be able to stand up to their level.

He'd been too busy learning the ins and outs of fighting with the Rengu to visit Dehber more than a handful of times. His place in camp wasn't a secret, it turned out, the noise of the small forge ringing out when he was put to work, the side of his caravan a common target for trash and arrows alike. The man railed against everyone, the Regime and the Rengu; even Rory, for not helping him escape or doing more to actively set things right. Rory was sure Dehber was telling him the truth, but he wasn't sure what the man's ultimate goal was, so he kept his visits to a minimum. The man didn't deserve his current fate, but he made it hard to feel sorry for him.

"So, Rory," Radín said. "Are you ready to win yourself a real place by our side?"

"Win?" Rory repeated.

"Prove yourself on the field." Radín grinned, a little bloodthirsty. "We're finally on the move again."

"Oh yeah?" Rory said. He tested the weight of the staff, tossing it from hand to hand. Its surface was soft and splinterless, but freckled with divots to keep the hand from sliding unintentionally.

"Taken Rashar long enough," Radín huffed, but then he sobered. "I mean, I understand it's hard to reorganize tactics when our forces are down, but she's being too cautious. People are talking."

"She seems all right to me," Rory said. "Well — a woman in charge, that's new, but she's doing well enough for all that."

"That's not the problem," Radín said, aiming a corrective slap at his head. "You valley lot are missing out, but it's to our advantage. No, she's just being too slow to take a new advantage when she gets it. We could take half the mountain range right now, if we tried."

"Winter's headed in, that's a bad time to suddenly find yourself at a loss." Rory traded the spear for a quiver of arrows, inspecting the fletching. "Even if you win, you can't get much out of your new conquest if you've trampled it into the ground. Better to wait until they've exhausted their winter supplies. Or wear them down over the course of it."

"That's what she says," Radín said grudgingly. He idly corrected Rory's stance, tapping at his fingers. "I guess we'll see, because she's not just going after our last target, she's planning on taking the lot of them."

"Winter with them, on their land, and hope they won't spend a sullen winter tripping our feet every chance they get?"

"The Esselar are soft," Radín said carelessly. "Herders. They never fight back. They don't even have a permanent home, just a winter camp that they huddle in for the harder months. They'll follow along like the _shteti_ they prize so much."

Rory raised an eyebrow, but didn't argue. He let the arrow fly. Not a bullseye, but a solid hit. He kept his hand wrapped tight around the bow, so Radín couldn't see how tense it was.


	4. Chapter 4

"No, this should work," the Doctor said to Wyan. "I did this once before in Japan."

"Where is that, on the coast?" the shepherd asked guilelessly.

"Sort of. It's an island country." The Doctor shrugged it off. "Actually, with this steep entrance, you're better protected than they were." The winter campsite was in a steephead valley, carved into the mountain like a box canyon. Which, technically it was — the underground stream that had created the valley bubbled up through the rocks to create a fast-flowing river through the valley, thundering fast through the narrow mouth that was the only entrance, leaving a single bridge the only entry point for anyone traveling by horse or with a cart. Footpaths on the steep cliffs were climbable, but not an effective entry for a band of armed marauders. The Doctor could see why the Esselar weren't worried about the Rengu trying to attack them.

But the fact of the matter was that they were going to. "You're certain the river stays inside the valley?" A quick and dirty siege was possible if the Rengu could contaminate the water supply.

"Nona and her sister went exploring a few winters ago," Wyan replied. "The caves descend rapidly, while the water pushes up. It's safer than a summer wind."

"Are the caves useful?"

Wyan shook his head. "We store supplies in them, but once it starts snowing, we avoid them — too easy to get trapped inside, with no way to get supplies. They're dead ends, we'd have our backs to the wall. Besides, they're too far in to Lamána to be used as anything besides a last stand."

"Any unsafe areas on the cliffs?" He asked, eyeing them next. Though much of the plant life was dimming with the approaching cold, it was still plentiful, and showed the kind of deep spread only possible in pre-industrial landscapes.

"The _shteti_ climb the peaks better than we can, they've knocked down anything that could possibly be loose." Wyan shook his head. "Doctor, this place is perfectly defended. It's the safest spot in all of the high pass."

"And no one calls it a permanent home, or fights you for it, choosing instead to risk the terror of the Rengu or others like them." He raised an eyebrow in skepticism.

"There aren't as many of us in the mountain area as there are in your cities, Doctor," Wyan replied. "We don't have to fight anyone for it because there's enough land for everyone to share. Lamána isn't the only valley shelter."

Then why were Dehber and the Rengu set on this one? He wished again for his TARDIS, but going back for it still wasn't an option. Sure, his sonic could tell him whatever he wanted to know about the local area, but it couldn't tell him about the geology of the mountain range as a whole.

Lamána seemed perfectly well defended. They'd set themselves up with some basics — rigging the bridge to drop, capsaicin bombs and smoke bombs — but he was sure the Rengu must have some trick up their sleeves if they thought they could take this location, where steel was no advantage.

He looked up as something latched itself onto his arm. "Pond," he said, "How's it going?"

"I think we're as prepared as we can be." She looked serious, and dropped his arm, but didn't move away. "I'm not used to having this much time to prepare. Usually we step into the thick of things, and it's all reacting."

He nodded. "We do have that ace up our sleeves, though."

Amy frowned. "Rory says Rashar is playing her cards close to her vest; she might have some aces of her own."

"Rashar must have something up her sleeve if she's so sure she can take this place," the Doctor insisted, and frowned in thought. "Let's just hope Rory can stop her."

  


Being on a horse again was strange. Or maybe it was the fact that it wasn't quite a horse. Rory shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. Its design was different, too. But the main thing was that he was two thousand years out of practice, and even then he'd marched more than he'd ridden. They hadn't had cavalry units any more; his memories of riding probably weren't even real.

He pushed the thought aside. He was on the horse...thing, and could make it go in the right direction. And, bonus, they'd been riding since before sun-up and his muscles weren't protesting. Juttar had explained to him that normally they would have moved in the evening, or even at night, especially with a stationary target, but Rashar had decided that daylight would be to their advantage.

He looked around. "Where's Juttar?" he asked. Normally the man would ride with Rashar, and when he'd been directed next to her, he'd assumed that the man would be joining them later, or at least be nearby. But there had been no trace of him the entire ride, and the hill they were cresting looked familiar — they were almost at Lamána.

"He's with the river party," Rashar said shortly.

"The river?" he repeated uselessly. "They're not going to try and swim up it, are they? It's practically a waterfall."

"No." Rashar smiled, her teeth sharp. But she didn't elaborate. Rory thought about trying to press for details, but decided not to. And he was riding right next to her — there was no way he could warn Amy and the Doctor without raising suspicions.

He wasn't doing any good at all, was he? What was he going to do here? He wasn't in charge of anyone, what was he going to do? The Doctor didn't do military strategy, he hadn't given Rory any plans. There wasn't much he could do to interfere with a well-oiled machine like this. Hell, actual well-oiled machines would have been easier to interfere with. He pushed the feelings away, twisting slightly to check his gear again. The leather armor provided by the Doctor was familiar, and kept him warm. Sword — Dehber had provided enough blades for the entire attack party — two daggers, not iron, they looked older and had a different cast; and the staff. Rory was hoping to be off the horse before he had much chance to use that.

The sheltered valley came into view at last, and Rory wondered if he wouldn't get his wish after all. There was only a single bridge across, and it barely looked strong enough to hold a semi-llama, let alone a horse and rider. And the water was _fast_. Even if Rashar was bloodthirsty enough to fill the river with the dead in order to let others ride across, it would take a horrifying number to fill up a gorge that deep and that fast.

With a gesture, Rashar dispatched six riders, who split into groups of three and headed for the cliffs. Groups that small wouldn't get far, they had to be a distraction tactic.

Right?

She was _definitely_ playing this close to the vest. Looking around, Rory realized he wasn't the only one looking puzzled by the riders leaving. There had been a mass meeting before leaving the Rengu camp, and Rashar had outlined the basic strategies, and everyone had seemed fine with it then. So maybe getting past the bridge wasn't going to be a surprise to anyone but him. But he still felt lost. They didn't have any engineering supplies. Dehber wasn't even with them. He'd been left locked up in the camp.

Not long after that, Rashar signaled a halt. "This is our moment," she said, her voice carrying over the lines of raiders. "Take no prisoners, but take no risks, either. Our victory here depends not just on our skill, but on our wit. They have the ground, but we will wear them down over it. And remember, you fight not just for your own glory, but for the future of our people!"

A cheer erupted from the crowd, a chant of "Rengu! Rengu! Rashar! Ballasrar!" and they kicked forward their steeds, galloping towards the bridge.

Which soon proved to be no obstacle. A kick and a yank of the mane, and the horse-things proved they were probably part cat, leaping clear over the water. They landed with ease and ran on, making room for the next rider, Rory copying the move clumsily and managing it more through momentum and inertia than anything else. He struggled to keep his breath as the horse-thing — what had Radín _called_ them? — churned the ground beneath it.

The Esselar were ready for them, standing in a tight phalanx formation, armed with staffs and makeshift shields. Standing shoulder to shoulder, and least three rows deep, there were enough of them to reach across the narrow breadth of the pass. Riders with slingshots let loose a volley of stones, picking a few of them off, but for the most part the lines stood firm. The gaps were filled in — not as fast as the ancient tactical part of Rory's mind said they should, but fast enough that the Rengu weren't able to press the advantage. Instead they hacked with their swords, trying to break the staffs; and they jabbed with their own staffs, trying to find a weak spot.

The line held steady. Rory scanned his eyes across it, but he didn't see anyone he recognized. And he was still in no place to warn anyone. He lashed out with his sword again, trying mainly to confuse, keep anyone on either side from being harmed.

The battle pressed on for what felt like ages, with neither side gaining more than a few feet before their opponents pressed them back. Then someone was too slow to fill in a gap on the edge of a line, and then there was a shout and a horse was leaping through the gap, taking a few more members of the phalanx with it. And, possibly, from the high shriek that made Rory wince, the horse-thing as well. Rashar shouted something angrily, but Rory couldn't make it out. Members of the Rengu pressed at the gap, trying to force it wider. The Esselar held firm, but they couldn't close the gap, either.

The air started to fill with smoke, heavy and dragging at Rory's lungs. He coughed, trying to see through it as it clouded the air more and more. But there was no fire, no heat, angry flames dancing close, trying to melt him — he shook his head. No. Not that. But there _wasn't_ any flame — and no wind to spread it, anyway. It must be artificially produced. He thought about trying to dismount, sneak away, but the smoke couldn't last long — it had to be hampering the Esselar as much as the Rengu.

Sure enough, after about five minutes of confused milling, Rashar shouting orders to stay together that they could only do so much to obey when they couldn't even see each other, relying more on the horse-things' herd senses than their own; and the air began to clear again. Rory strained his eyes to see through it, and the Esselar must have had it easier than them, because not only had they stayed together, they'd filled in the holes in the phalanx. The only progress they'd made in hours, and it was gone. Mutters went through the raiders around him, but Rashar herself seemed unmoved. What was she planning? Rory wondered. This whole fight was just a distraction.

The Esselar seemed more confident now, and started to press their advantage, trying to push the Rengu back. Their staffs were starting to look battered, the edges chopped at by the steel blades of the Rengu. Rory found himself wishing desperately for some archers, and scowled at himself. He wasn't supposed to be invested in this battle, and he _definitely_ shouldn't be wanting the Rengu to win it. The slingshotters let loose another volley, and this time the Esselar lobbed back something in return. A packet exploded against his horse-thing's shoulder, and it shrieked like it had been burned, dancing to get away from it . Struggling to keep his hold, Rory got a whiff of something and his eyes started to water. Pepper spray. Or something like it; hot, and making his lungs ache in a way the smoke hadn't, his eyes watering and the air suddenly smelling sour. His horse-thing bucked hard, then dropped like it was going to roll, and Rory threw himself clear, hands over his head while trying to stay out of the way of the other horse-things, several of them acting like his.

Now a volley of stones from the Esselar as well, and this was the best chance Rory was going to get, off his horse and the enemy advancing. He couldn't recognize a single face among them, through his watering eyes and the heavy air, so he let himself lie boneless on the ground, presenting as small and as harmless a target as he possibly could. The Esselar pressed forward, and he felt the ground tremble with footsteps, the leather of a boot next to his ear, the hot press of a body directly above him. Then it moved past him, and he held his breath.

The ground was still trembling beneath him when warm hands rolled him over, pressing gently at his cheek and smoothing over his forehead. "You know you're only supposed to pretend to help them, right?" Amy said, tone light. God, he'd missed her.

Rory took a slow breath, then another. "Had to make it look convincing," he managed. He opened his eyes.

Amy grinned at him, eyes sparkling. Grabbing Rory's hand, she pulled him to his feet, and into a hard kiss.

After a long minute, Rory convinced himself to pull away. "The river —" He took a breath, trying to compose himself. "Rashar said she was sending some men up the river. And she sent people to the cliffs. Six of them." He waved a hand at the fighting armies. "The rest is just a distraction."

"Well she's out of luck, then. Even if the current wasn't too strong, the river is laced with fishing traps. No one could swim up it."

"She didn't mean up the valley," Rory corrected. "She wouldn't say any more, but if it was that simple, she would've said so."

Amy paused, thinking. Her hand stopped its run up and down his arm. "The river comes out in the caves. Wyan said there was no way in. What if he was wrong?" She turned and started running.

Rory followed after her, ignoring the pain in his joints. "Where's the Doctor?"

"Guarding the secret weapon."

"You've got smoke bombs, pepper bombs, and have managed to teach these people to fight in phalanx formation, and you've got a secret weapon on top of that?"

"Fighting them off for a day isn't going to keep the Rengu from coming back," Amy replied. They jogged past clusters of tents and the occasional wandering semi-llama. "And I don't know if this will either, but it should encourage them to stay out of the valley, if nothing else."

The river had carved its way into the soft rock of the caves over the millennia, so that it already had a steep chute to churn through, but it was still fast-flowing enough that it splashed and tumbled, and the whole floor of the caves was damp, pools of still water gathered here and there where the river had once flowed higher, the caves too cool and wet to let the water evaporate instead.

"We should've checked the caves out ourselves," Amy said.

"The Esselar have been coming here for generations, they should have known about any entrances," Rory said. Amy hummed, not reassured. The light from the entrance was gone now. Amy pulled a pair of torches from her bag, handing one to Rory. Inside he could also see a knife, and what he guessed to be a first aid kit. He smiled.

Rory swapped between looking out for dips and puddles on the ground and searching the walls for hiding places big enough for a man. Or several men. Rashar hadn't said how many people she'd sent with Juttar.

The floor of the caves rose higher, the water still below them, and Rory frowned. "The rock is getting darker."

"Is it?" Amy looked up, frown back. "It's sandstone here — softer rock."

"What does that mean?" Rory asked.

Amy's torch lit on a dark spot in the rock — a jagged scar, big enough for a man to crawl through. "Not a dead end any more."

  


"— Beginning to lose patience with your imposing on my hospitality," Hallison huffed.

"Hospitality, right," the Doctor replied absently. Hallison had been ranting at the Doctor since he'd appeared in the station. Possibly he should stop remotely taking control of the station's systems. But where would be the fun in that? He kept his concentration on the screen. None of the satellites were currently focused on the valley — a seasonal abode, it wasn't too surprising that it hadn't been calculated into the constellation paths. Its sides were too steep to see much of anything; by re-angling a few satellites he could make out the entrance to the valley, and the main force of the fight, but he couldn't see Rory any more. Obviously the satellites hadn't been configured to make any changes to their orbits once they were placed; he was having to code an interface from scratch, and he was shamefully out of practice. He wished there were more of the on-site cameras that Dehber had placed in the Rengu camp.

He glanced at the monitoring screen again. He couldn't pick out any individual, could barely tell the Rengu from the Esselar, especially once they got off their horses. The Esselar had pushed the Rengu back some, but that was as far as they could get. If they moved too far forward, the valley would widen up and the Rengu would be able to get around them. The Rengu had numbers on their side, and training. They could easily wait the Esselar out.

"Doctor, can you hear me?" Amy's voice came out of the speakers, slightly staticky and breathless, like she was running.

"Of course I am. How's it going down there, Pond?"

"Some of the Rengu have snuck in through the back door —"

The Doctor frowned. "What? There is no back door."

"They made one. I don't know how long ago — they could be anywhere. We need to find them and stop them."

"I'm still working on rerouting the satellites," he replied. He set the nearest constellation of satellites moving — not in the nicest path imaginable, but at least they were _moving_. "I don't have a fix on you yet."

"I don't care if you are here on behalf of the Shadow Proclamation, you can't interfere like this —" Hallison continued.

"You have a very peculiar definition of what's allowed and what isn't, Commander," the Doctor sniped.

"Your authority here is _extremely_ limited, Doctor." Hallison stormed away from him. "And it's about to come to an end entirely."

"Hallison! Wait —"

The Doctor was interrupted by a second voice coming down the line, tight but indistinct. Probably Rory. Hopefully Rory. "They're probably going straight for the phalanx, but they'll try and keep out of sight until they get there," Amy said. So no one would see them coming. Not even the phalanx. Hallison was gone. He looked from the hallway to the video feed from the satellites anxiously. It was moving at an absolute crawl. But he couldn't leave them to go chase Hallison down. He'd turned off long-range communications, so Hallison couldn't contact the Regime, but he could have missed something, or Hallison could have something else up his sleeve —

"Don't worry about stealth yourself," the Doctor said to Amy and hopefully-Rory. One thing at a time. "Just don't let them get to the phalanx's unprotected back. Is there someone you can send ahead for help?" He couldn't manage to make himself ask about Rory. It was a stupid habit he'd developed, one he hadn't managed to break even after so long with him being there, real and temporally correct.

"Yes, as soon as we get out of the caves and find — oh."

  


"What?" The Doctor's voice in her ear sounded a little frantic, and Amy realized she'd stopped speaking.

"There's smoke coming from — something." More than their smoke bombs could provide. She'd gotten turned around in the caves. Was that the tents or the storage area?

"Oh no," Rory breathed. "The teams Rashar sent to the cliffs." He shook his head. "How did they get there so fast?"

"Archers?" Amy asked.

"Maybe."

She looked back and forth between the smoke and the path out of Lamána. "It's got to be a distraction. No one's going to pay any attention to anything else besides the fire. The Rengu will have a clear path to the fighting."

"They're not going to stop with just one fire," the Doctor said. "Can you stop them?"

"We're going to have to," Amy said, trying to keep from snapping. Three places to go, and only the two of them. "Rory, do you know where they would have gone?"

"No, but I can find them," he said. His eyes were angry, and Amy had to hold her breath for a second. She didn't know if it was the uniform that did this to him, or if it just made it more noticeable, but he got so ... _intense_ sometimes, and it did ridiculous things to her insides.

Now wasn't the time for that. "If anyone could stop them, you could." Then, giving into temptation — and definitely _not_ thinking about the way he'd looked, still on the dusty ground in the wake of the phalanx passing over him — she yanked him in for another hard kiss. Rory kissed her back, reckless and uneven, his hands tight at her waist. She bit his lip and he gasped into her mouth. Her fingers curled into his hair.

"I can see them!" the Doctor said in Amy's ear, and she pulled away with a start. "They're almost there."

Amy patted at her earpiece. "How close?" She kept one hand on Rory's neck.

"They're at least ten minutes away from you. You're not going to make it before they get there."

Amy turned Rory towards the burning tents. "Go!"

Rory nodded. "I love you." Then he turned and was running off, before she could fumble out a reply. So she ran too.

"How much detail do you have?" Amy asked. "Do they have arrows too?"

"It's not arrows, it's coals, or pitch," the Doctor replied. "Which means they're not going to shoot down the phalanx, they're going to have to get right up behind them, but as soon as the phalanx starts to collapse the rest of the Rengu can tear it down from the front. They don't need to kill them all."

But they might. "Can you stop them?"

The Doctor sighed over the line, a quiet rumble. "I don't know how well this will work — better than I thought, with the new angle on the satellites. But it still won't be pretty. I can't control the path, or the range. You're going to want to ditch anything that can be magnetized, Pond. Including the comm."

Amy bit her lip. If she did this, they'd be on their own until the Doctor could get down here. But if they didn't — "How close are they?"

"Five minutes."

"Give me three minutes, then hit it," she said. Amy looked around, trying to find a landmark. By the river — a large stone, big enough to sit on, cragged over with moss and dirt. She took out the earpiece and emptied her pockets, putting everything into her bag, and tucking the bag under the curve of the rock, a shock of reeds hiding it slightly. Then she was running again.

She could see the fighting now — it had slowed from the initial rush, the Rengu making more concentrated attacks, trying to break the ranks, and the Esselar keeping steady, but just barely.

And she could also see the five people moving quietly behind them. The fighting was audible, but with no machinery and not too many metal weapons, it wasn't as loud as what she was used to from films, or even other fights she'd been in. And she couldn't shout to warn them herself, not without causing just as much chaos.

Then there was a rumble — or maybe she imagined it — and a tremendous clatter, as every sword the Rengu had dropped sharply to the ground. There were some screams as well — the suddenly magnetized metal had taken the shortest path to the ground, regardless of what was in the way.

The Rengu were shouting — some at the each other, some at their _swords_ — and went after the Esselar with whatever other weapons they had, or their hands. But the Esselar had the advantage now, breaking the phalanx row by row to surround the Rengu, herding the small attack party in with the others.

Amy put her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. It was over.


	5. Chapter 5

The Doctor was pleasantly surprised to find, when he finally made his way up to Lamána from the plateau, that the Esselar had the disassembly of the Rengu's army well in hand. At least _something_ was going well. "It's like herding the _shteti_ during breeding season," a stocky young man said to him. "Separate out the aggressive ones, and the rest are led easily enough in small groups." The armorless Rengu he was leading — several inches taller than him and with beautifully muscled arms — gave him a disbelieving look, but she did go where he directed her. Then again, he wasn't sure what to make of that comparison, either, so he just nodded tiredly, and asked if he knew where Amy was.

The man thought. "That's your friend, right? The girl?" He scratched his head. "No. She's probably with Kaêl — been near everywhere else but down in the middle of things, and I haven't seen her yet." He nodded at the Doctor and led his captive off again, heading towards a field of evenly-spaced figures that the Doctor suspected were not _shteti_.

In the end, Amy found him first. "Doctor!" She gave him a glancing, one-armed hug, then immediately grabbed his arm and started dragging him off towards a cluster of people. "Please explain to them that you didn't take control of all their swords with magic."

"Of course I didn't — polarizing barely-refined iron ore is tricky, I'll admit, but it's hardly _magic_ —" he stopped and looked around. "Then again, you and I are the only ones here who know what an electron is, let alone how magnetism works."

"Speaking of, when are you undoing whatever it is you did? It'd be easier to show them it's not magic if we could undo it, instead of leaving all their swords stuck to the ground. You're lucky none of them are stuck through people." Amy gave him a pointed look.

He looked away. "Very true." Kaêl, Ayla, and Omalin were standing around a woman in leather armor, arms unbound but stiff at her sides, aware of the guard on her. This must be Rashar. He moved to face her.

"I promise you, what I've done is no magic, and easily reversible, once I have your promise that you will leave these people in peace."

"You fool," Rashar spat. "You have doomed us all."

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's not usually the response I get." Though admittedly it also wasn't an original one.

"These people are simple herders, dependent on the land, not even able to turn it for their own ends." Her tone was scornful. "There is danger coming from the dark sea. Only those who can fight will survive." She glared at the Doctor. "I know your kind. Any means that would satisfy you would leave us weak. You would do as well to kill us all now."

"The dangers of the sea are a myth —" Kaêl started.

"So speaks you who lives in the high mountains, well out of their clutch," Rashar responded. "I have seen its treachery. My family fought long generations to keep it at bay, and now it reaches its grasping fingers towards us all."

"That doesn't mean you get to take the Esselar's land from them," the Doctor interrupted before she could get more worked up. Rashar's arrogance had surprised him — or, rather, the fact that it had surprised him had surprised him, and he felt his temper rising quickly. "Peace is never formed over peoples' backs. And you need them to work with you, or you wouldn't have waited until after they'd reoccupied Lamána before attacking. If you make mistakes like that, Rashar, I don't think any strategy you come up with is going to be enough to keep you successful." Something in her eyes flickered as she caught his message, and he turned away before he could continue with anything that would be an outright threat.

He stalked off, consciously keeping his breathing even. When something touched his shoulder, he nearly jerked away, but Amy was already speaking. "All right?"

He stopped, and sighed. "Yes. Just — no matter where you go, people always make the same mistakes."

"Not everyone," Amy corrected. "And not all the time. Or it would hardly be worth it to keep going out there, would it?"

She was right, of course. A smile spread its way across his face. "You're magnificent, Amy Pond." He wrapped his arms around her, and she hugged him tight, her face curling up against his neck. "Spot on." He gave himself a moment holding on to her. Then another, since Amy wasn't complaining.

At last he pulled away. "Let's see where your husband has wandered off to now. Maybe he'll be able to make heads or tails of what Rashar's on about."

  


They found Rory up near the caves. The entrance had been hastily sealed over, but the caves were still necessary storage areas for the Esselar. He was sitting on a still rolled-up tent, the roll looking like a small hay bale. He was bare-chested, except for the bandages that were slowly being applied.

"What did you manage to do to yourself this time, Rory?" Amy sat down on the bundle next to Rory, jostling him slightly and peering over his shoulder to see what Nona was doing. She was wrapping a bandage around his upper arm and shoulder, an awkward enough place that Rory wouldn't have been able to do it by himself. But she couldn't see exactly what kind of injury it was since the bandaging was nearly done. She curled her fingers into her palms to keep from poking at it.

"They had flint knives for the fire," Rory explained.

"Ouch." Amy winced in sympathy.

Rory nodded "Sparks everywhere. Scared the crap out of me, and while I was still trying to figure out what had happened, the bloke I was fighting had enough time to swing about and get in a good shot at my arm." Amy and the Doctor both winced this time, and the Doctor started to undo the bandage Nona was still applying. "It's all right," Rory said. "I managed to step out enough that it's mostly a surface wound. I won't have full range of motion for a couple days, but it looks like the fighting's over, so that should be all right."

"I'm not sitting around the TARDIS for two days while you knit your epidermis back together," the Doctor said, as if Rory's injury was a personal affront to him. "And it wouldn't do for you to show up to work with mysterious injuries, either." He aimed the sonic screwdriver over Rory's now-revealed injury. It was a long gash, but it didn't look too horrible to Amy, though it was hard to tell in the odd green glow of the screwdriver. It had begun to perceptibly fade before the Doctor turned it off and started redoing the bandages. "Don't thank me now, this way you won't get to miss out on wherever we go next."

"I wouldn't mind a day off here and there, you know," Rory said, though Amy recognized his dry, teasing sarcasm.

"Yes, but Pond here would complain if I tried to go off without you," the Doctor replied, putting an arm around each of them.

"Darn right," she nodded. She wanted to lean across the Doctor and kiss Rory. Well — actually, she wanted to kiss them both.

The Doctor filled Rory in on what Rashar had been rambling on about. "Do you know what's she's talking about? Or is this one of the things she was playing close to her vest?"

Rory tilted his head. "Definitely was — I remember hearing a few references to the sea that didn't sound good, but that was more in the line of idle threats, stuff everyone was throwing around. Usually in relation to Dehber." He shrugged. "If he told her about the reason the Regime's started looking into this place, she could easily think they're coming from overseas."

"Dehber." The Doctor shook his head. "The more I hear, the less I like. And the more complicated it gets." He looked up at the sky, as if he could see all the way to the station on the moon. "Hallison has gotten away from us. He took off in one of the emergency shuttles."

"What?" Amy said. "Why didn't you say something earlier?"

The Doctor shrugged, feeling old. He should have been able to stop him, and help Amy and Rory. But he hadn't. "The shuttle only has subspace communications, and it can't break the lightspeed barrier. It'll be several days before he manages to contact anyone."

"Unless someone finds him first," Rory said.

"If there were regular patrols in the area, Dehber's disappearance would've been investigated much sooner." He shook his head. "Speaking of, I need to talk to him, find out exactly what he told Rashar. Rory, go down to the Rengu camp and bring Dehber back here."

"What?" Rory looked at the Doctor in surprise. "And you think they'll just let me? Every one of the Rengu hates him, whether it's justified or not. And if I get caught trying to sneak him out —"

"Then don't sneak," the Doctor replied easily.

"Yeah, you are supposed to be on their side," Amy pointed out. "I'm sure you can think of a reason Rashar might want Dehber here. She shrugged one shoulder. "Just don't, y'know, tell them they've lost."

Rory scowled. "He's told them _something_ ," the Doctor said. "And either it's got mangled or we have more things to worry about than we thought. Either way, trying to figure out what Rashar actually heard will only waste time we might not have."

Rory nodded. "I can go tonight. At night they're less likely to ask questions, and more likely to have a problem mobilizing if they do figure out something's wrong."

The Doctor nodded.

"So what're we going to do when Hallison gets back with reinforcements?" Amy asked.

"No use borrowing trouble, Pond. Right now I'm more worried about Rashar's invaders from the sea."

" _I'm_ more worried about how big Rashar's head's going to get if she does manage to defeat all of the Regime," Rory said wryly.

  


Rory was his usual extraordinarily competent self — the Doctor's words — and he was back before the night was half out, undressing quietly and sliding into the blankets behind Amy. She pulled his arm around her waist, and drifted back off with the warmth of his breath on her neck.

It was strange, remembering that feeling in the morning, soft skin and gentle hands. Dressed in the leather armor and standing stiff-backed in the sun, Rory's face was stern, distant. Amy put a hand on his arm cautiously. He looked at her, blinked, then smiled, uncomfortably, like he was dredging it up from forgotten depths.

"Sorry, I —" he managed, before the Doctor interrupted him, flinging himself out of the tent like a bird being pushed out of a tree.

"Rory!" He flung an arm over Rory's shoulders and Rory jolted, all the starch going out of his spine. "How's my favorite nurse?" He leaned around Rory, not letting go of him, to kiss Amy on the forehead. "Morning, Pond." Then he kissed Rory's forehead too. "Mr. Pond. Sleep well, you two?" Somehow he managed to make the question sound entirely innocent.

"What little I got after running errands for you half the night," Rory said, all familiar meaningless grumble. "I don't know when I last got a full night's sleep."

Amy frowned, but the Doctor barreled on. "Don't worry, you'll have plenty of time to sleep once we're back on the TARDIS. I promise I'll take us somewhere restful next. Like Brisbane, or the House of Commons. Full of politics, nothing more boring than that." He clapped Rory's shoulder, tapped Amy on the nose, and was off, heading towards the communal tents as if he hadn't stopped at all.

Amy and Rory watched him go. "Did he find a pot of tea somewhere I didn't?" Rory asked at last.

Amy squeezed his hand. "God, I hope so."

  


The Doctor had come to rest again outside Dehber's caravan, or at least that was where he was by the time they found him. Dehber was leaning against its side, one ankle casually over the other, arms crossed, looking for all the world as if he'd gotten a full night's sleep, had never caused anyone any trouble, and wasn't standing between the Time Lord and the interior of the van. He looked over the Doctor's shoulder and nodded at them. "Morning, Rory. And who is this?" He stepped around the Doctor to take Amy's hand.

Amy gave him a winning smile. "Amy Pond." She took his hand and shook it. Some other time she might have spent a little time flirting, but not today. There wasn't time for that. Though Rory gave her a small look all the same. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he rolled his eyes in return. Amy turned to the Doctor. "Making any progress, then, Doctor?"

"We were just about to go inside," the Doctor replied.

Dehber looked like he was going to argue when he looked over Amy's shoulder, and his eyes widened. "Yes, actually. Yes we were." He gestured to Amy. "After you, miss." What was he looking at? And _miss_?

"You!" Amy turned to see Rashar bearing down on them, two Esselar guards jogging after her to catch up. "Traitor!"

"Hurry," Dehber said, and ushered Amy up the steps into the caravan, the Doctor quick on her heels. "She's dangerous enough when she's not mad."

"I should have known when I found you that you weren't to be trusted," Rashar growled, and reached for Rory. Rory stumbled and the Doctor and Dehber grabbed him under the arms, yanking him up and in. The Doctor slammed the door and sonicked the lock.

"Well, she was bound to find out eventually," the Doctor murmured.

"She wouldn't have let me go either way," Rory said. As he spoke the fright leached out of his voice, until it was cold and distant. "I beat her second. She's just sorry she didn't take me prisoner instead." He seemed to take no notice of the way Dehber watched him carefully, eyes narrowing, or the way the Doctor's smile was just a little bit forced.

Angry — at herself or something else, she wasn't sure — Amy grabbed Rory's hand. "Like she would have been able to." Deliberately changing the subject, she turned to Dehber. "Nice little place you've got here. Decor hardly matches your space station, though. Where'd you get this?"

Dehber allowed the abrupt change of topic. "Custom made for the research team. There's always a chance that we have to interact with the natives — I saw that you found the clothing stores." His eyes flickered over to Rory again. Rory didn't seem to notice. "Obviously we didn't do enough research."

The Doctor snorted. "Obviously they didn't do _any_ research before setting you down. This research station is nothing more than a conciliatory gesture to the rules of intergalactic trade. If it were more, it would have more than one person posted to it, qualified ethnologists and anthropologists, and there would have been more of a fuss kicked up when you disappeared for a month." He tilted his head. "Not that you're complaining about that, are you?"

Dehber's smile was sharp. "You judge all you want, but you don't lift a finger to change anything, do you? I've seen your type before. Poking your noses into places it doesn't belong because you think it's _fun_ , turning over rocks just to see what wriggles underneath, but not caring for what you've exposed."

The Doctor raised a cool eyebrow. The temperature in the small room had dropped precipitously. "I doubt you've seen my type before." Dehber looked away. "Look at you. Defending the Federated Regime of the Eastern Colfax System. Is that what you really want?" Dehber glared. "Who are you really angry at?" the Doctor asked quietly. It was silent for a moment, then he spoke again. "Empires that fall because someone else destroys them just become another empire. Empires that are pulled down from the inside — they become something better."

Rory pointedly cleared his throat. "Or, okay, they fall into decay and then another empire steals all their treasures a thousand years later. Happy, Mister Pond?"

"...Actually, I was just going to point out that we've been here a while and we still haven't gotten to the point, and Rashar's still out there ready to knock me flat."

The Doctor smiled, for real this time. "True enough." He repeated Rashar's sea menace story for Dehber's benefit.

Dehber winced. "Pre-technological societies," he sighed. "I tried to explain it to her, but it sounds like it didn't stick. Too much new information to take in, I suppose. Easier to come up with an explanation that fits with what she already knows."

"So what _did_ happen?" Amy asked impatiently.

"A failed launch test. Meremetia isn't that far away, globally — not even five hundred miles. I knew they were reaching the testing stage; I thought I'd be showing her a rocket disappearing into the sky. I wasn't prepared for it to explode a few hundred feet into the air. Low enough for us to be within debris range." They all winced. Dehber shrugged. "It spurred her into action, though. Before that, I wasn't sure if she believed a word I was saying, even before I accidentally claimed their old home city as my own." Rory winced a second time.

"Have there been any launches since then?" the Doctor asked.

"I haven't exactly been in a position to check," Dehber sniped. He crossed his arms and leaned away, clearly unprepared to tell more.

"There can't have been," Amy said. "Or the Regime would have made their move, wouldn't they? Since they're still hiding in the shadows, the Meremetians must have done the sensible thing and stopped when their test vehicle exploded."

"Let's hope so," the Doctor said. "If Hallison knew about that when he left, the Regime is going to move a lot faster. We need as much time as we can get."

"Hallison's gone back to the Regime?" Dehber repeated, concerned.

"We?" Rory asked at the same time, resignation in his tone suggesting he already knew what the Doctor meant.

"Hallison is still days from the Regime, and we're not fighting anyone's battles for them," the Doctor hurried to reassure them. "But negotiations still need a little mediating if we don't want them to break down." He turned back to Dehber. "Will you help? Where one planet makes a stand, others might follow."

Dehber gave him a long look. "This whole endeavor is bound for failure." He tapped his prosthetic leg against the floor, making a dull noise. "But — no one has stood up to the Regime in hundreds of years. And they've pressed that advantage ruthlessly. Bloodily." He nodded. "It'll be my head. But I suppose that's true either way, at this point."

"Probably," the Doctor answered frankly. He had that look on his face that said he was holding back on a real scolding. Amy could just guess about what. "Right," he continued. "Dehber, do you want to meet some more of the people you're going to be protecting?"

It wasn't actually a question.

  


Rashar was restless throughout Dehber's retelling of events to the Esselar leaders, impatient with both the repetition and the apparently insulting fact that her word alone wasn't trusted. But she kept her commentary to silent expressions and dagger glares aimed at the Doctor. He tried to ignore her without it being too obvious.

She managed to hold her peace until Wyan and Osap started questioning Dehber's description of the Regime's aims — surely they couldn't be THAT bad, wouldn't they rather —

"The lot of you are hopeless," Rashar growled. "You _men_. If it were up to you, you would surrender us all to Dehber right now. You have no place making decisions for anyone."

Wyan glared back at Rashar. "Not everything is solved through destruction and carnage —"

"Have you listened to nothing you were just told?" She leaned forward. "Destruction is what is coming for us. A conquering army won't stop because you want to know what color they want their temple painted. If I needed any proof that the plot that bested us was not yours, you just handed it to me."

"And yet, provided that plot, they stood against you easily," the Doctor butted in. "You shouldn't brush them aside so quickly."

"I have no patience for you, Doctor." Rashar stood. "First you stack the negotiation tables in the Esselar's favor, and now you favor their blundering foolishness in the face of another attack. At this point I'd as soon wash my hands of them and vow never to come back than try and work with them; but then negotiating peace isn't my job on the council. So tell me what you do want me here for, then, if you insist on leaving me the sole arbiter of my people's fate. Unless you're in league with this Regime and hoping to see us all fall." She raised an eyebrow and smirked, seeming pleased by this notion. She stalked over to face the Doctor. "I wouldn't put it past you, for duplicity."

"Rashar, I would swear on whatever you believe in that I am not in league with the Regime." He stared into her eyes, trying to see understanding, or a need, or trust. But nothing surfaced out of her depths, and he gave up when the tension in the room continued to rise. "And as for being the sole arbiter of your people's fate, I'm sorry, that's not how this is meant to be at all, but you're the ruler of your people, there's no —"

Rashar laughed. "Don't play the fool with me, Doctor, your spy had to have told you the truth. I'm the _war leader_ , the ruler of the Rengu. But the rest of my people have their own counsel, and I cannot steer the course of their lives unless it's a matter of war. So either we are at war, or not. You tell me."

The Doctor had a faint recollection of Amy mentioning something about Rory telling her about the Rengu. Maybe he should have listened instead of investigating the workings of the moon base. No, that had been important. But he still should have listened. "I'd forgotten," he admitted. "We can send for the rest of your people, if you promise no attempts at violence."

She crossed her arms again. "It wouldn't be an 'attempt.' Who will you send? No one will believe a handful of strangers to be conquerors of the Rengu."

"We'll send a representative of your people," Kaêl offered, "your second, Juttar, and one of our own people as well. Would that satisfy you?"

Rashar thought about it for a moment. "Send the spy, Rory. I have no reason to trust your people, but at least his duplicity has been revealed."

The Doctor bit the inside of his lip. Rory — Rory was still all over the place. Most of the time, he was his usual grumbly, overly-optimistic, contrary self. But put him in the armor, and grumbly still tipped too far forward into plastic _glaring_ , and to leave him on his own like that — But Rashar would jump on him if he backed down at all.

"All right."

  


The sky overhead was a bright blue, wisped through with streaky cirrus clouds, all their rain gone. The Doctor was glad for the change in weather — spending time out and about was at least taking the edge off his sudden claustrophobia, and he was more than ready to move on. This was the part he hated, moreso when he couldn't get away from it. He shuffled through the tufts of high grass and forcefully turned his mind back to the restless weather. Trying to manage a battle in the cold and the wet would have been horrendous. The rocky soil of the mountains had soaked in the water quickly, and this morning there was no sign that there had been a storm pounding down two days ago. Dust stirred in the chill air as he clambered through the valley — though protected from strong winds by its steep walls, it was still cold. He regretted not keeping the cool poncho.

Or maybe it wasn't dust. Something light tumbled by, and the Doctor realized it was fur. _Shteti_ fur. Peering ahead, he could make out a foggy-colored close-enough-to-a-llama, and someone with a poncho and violently red hair. He frowned. Surely Amy could find a thousand more interesting things to do than pet a furry animal. Her husband was back, there was a couple hundred things right there. Then again, her husband was back, and Rashar was demanding his services as an intermediary while sniping at him at the same time, which was sure to get Rory's back up, which never ended well — he stopped that trail of thought before it could go any further.

"You look like you're about to crawl out of your skin," Amy greeted him, one eyebrow raised in mild concern. "You were practically bragging about your negotiation skills last time. Change your mind?"

"Wishing I could change everyone else's, actually. The Esselar are perfectly agreeable, they just don't believe a word of anything Dehber or I say. Which Rashar isn't helping with. Now she's convinced Dehber's a spy as well —"

"As well?" Amy frowned.

"Rory," he reminded her, stroking the _shteti_ absently. "I can't actually argue with her on that one. Either charge, really, since Dehber was spying on them, but not then. And not for me. I think part of her is upset at losing to a man." He wondered if the Esselar or the Rengu were the outlier in the gendered behavior on this planet.

"I think she's upset about losing to a bunch of shepherds, but then again, I'm Scottish." Amy shrugged.

He chuckled at that. "Rashar wasn't arguing just for argument's sake, though. I'd forgotten what Rory had told us about what the Rengu actually were. She may be their leader, but they've got a whole council, just like the Esselar, and right now it's just Rashar against all of them. And, loser or not, that's not fair."

"So we're going to have two whole camps here?" Amy looked down towards the flat part of the valley where the tents were set up. "There's barely room for everyone right now, how many more people are coming? Is Rashar going to try and attack again? I know you've got them scared with that magnet trick, but they're going to test that sooner or later, and it won't work again if no one's watching up on the station."

He interrupted before she could rattle off more nervous questions. "It's not too many more people, and all their warriors are already here. And I'm not worried about the Rengu staging an insurrection right now. Rashar wouldn't want to be bested twice, so she's not going to take the risk as long as she doesn't know _how_ I beat her. I suggested giving her some leeway on this, so the Esselar have agreed to send Juttar and Rory to bring the rest of the Rengu back to Lamána." He shoved his hands casually into his pockets and stared past Amy's shoulder.

"You're sending Rory _back_ to them?" Amy asked, all the warmth gone from her voice.

He nodded stiffly. "Rashar doesn't trust me, or the Esselar, and — she doesn't actually _trust_ Rory, but she knows how far she can throw him, to misuse a phrase."

"You can't send him back." Amy reached across the _shteti_ , grabbed his arm and pulled him closer. The animal, squeezed between them, bleated and leapt away, leaving no barrier to Amy's ire. "You saw what it did to him, wearing that armor, having to act like that. It's not just an act, or a game. He _changes_." He looked away, feeling oddly guilty — and why should he? But still he couldn't manage to keep his eyes fixed anywhere.

"What's wrong with Rory, Doctor?" Amy's voice pinned him in place better than the hand wrapped around his arm. "He's had those memories for years, and was dealing with them fine. He's not even in the same armor, just similar. He's _worn_ the armor, and been fine. He was always still _Rory_."

"Have you talked to Rory about it?" he hedged.

"I don't think he knows he's doing it." Amy bit her lip. "But it's not like he blacks out or has gaps in his memory. But — he's _different_ , and I don't know why."

In his hearts, the Doctor agreed. It was disturbing to see Rory acting differently, especially because even when he'd been plastic — or when his plastic duplicate had thought he was him, properly — he'd always acted like that awkward, slightly boring, annoyingly normal nurse from the dullest town in the UK. He knew that better than Amy did. "If Rory was having a problem, he'd tell one of us," he offered, coaxing Amy's hand to relax enough that he could slide his arm up to hold her hand properly.

Amy wasn't reassured. " _Dehber_ noticed. And he's only known Rory for a few days. What if Rashar noticed? What if he says the wrong thing to the wrong person? I'm just waiting for the wrong person to notice —" she bit her lip.

"Amy, do you think he's in danger?" he asked carefully. This wasn't a path he'd let his own thoughts go down.

"I think —"

"Isn't anybody going to ask me what I think?" Rory's voice, stiff and angry, came from behind him, and they both turned to look in surprise. Rory's face was fixed in a scowl, and for a moment the Doctor wondered who exactly was in there.

Rory must have seen, because his scowl deepened and he didn't move closer. "How long were you two going to just talk about this between yourselves, instead of just _asking me_? There's nobody in my head besides me. There never was. Even if sometimes you wished there was." Rory paled a little, then turned on his heel and sped away.

"Rory —" Amy called, but it didn't do any good. The Doctor watched him go guiltily. Amy huffed a loud sigh. "This would be why I didn't want to say anything." He put a hand on her shoulder, half for her comfort, half for his own. "Well, I guess if he's going off to the Rengu I don't have to worry about giving him some space."

The Doctor hummed a noncommital response. He thought about the fire and hurt that had flashed in Rory's eyes. He thought about a restless, angry Amy trapped on the planet with nothing to do. "Though not too much. Let him cool off, but don't let him stew. Rory's good at taking things the wrong way."

Amy sighed again. "Yeah." She slumped against him, and the Doctor briefly wondered if he was ever going to make things better between the two of them without making them worse first.


	6. Chapter 6

Rory ran, letting the downward slope of the mountain lead the way. Stupid, so stupid. He shouldn't have said anything at all. He should've just left. Now they knew _he_ knew, and that was worse. The worried looks would just continue, be directed at him, instead of each other — he shook his head, eyesight going wobbly.

Of course they knew. How could he expect that they wouldn't notice? But he hadn't. _Too used to going unnoticed_ , he scolded himself. Too used to being the least trouble. He slowed down as the ground got rockier — his eyesight was still blurry, from running in the cold wind, that was _all_ — and it was obvious no one was following him.

He stopped, and sighed. This was stupid. He was being over-sensitive, overreacting. Amy never liked asking questions when she might not like the answer. And if she thought something was wrong with him — she wouldn't ask him, she'd ask the person who'd have a chance of fixing it. Who did not, he knew, have a good track record at dealing with things like this.

Rory tilted his head back, trying to encourage the liquid in his eyes to go away. Maybe he'd have a better time believing there was nothing wrong with him if he was more sure himself. It wasn't that he didn't slip into a sort of different mindset sometimes, or catch himself thinking about things he'd never actually done, it was just — well, he'd never actually done them, and while he didn't regret having done them, he regretted the reason they'd been necessary, and he really would rather have skipped the whole... everything. Stuck by himself, it was easier to ignore it all than convince his brain that hadn't been real. And maybe his brain didn't like it when he ignored it.

Well, if Amy and the Doctor were talking about it, it wouldn't stay ignored for long. Some days he missed being forgotten.

The sound of the river rumbled up to his ears. He must have gone further than he'd thought, or the valley here was narrower than he'd thought. But following the river would get him back to the camp, so he headed in the direction of the noise. Maybe if he got back before Amy and the Doctor —

"You know, I really ought to kill you."

Rory looked up with a start as Rashar's voice came out of nowhere. God, was she supposed to be out here? Was she armed? Escaping? He put his hands up as she stepped out from the tall grass and reeds. Then immediately raised one hand further to cover his eyes.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Um — you're naked."

"I was bathing." Rashar replied, nonplussed. He lowered his hand — he didn't like not having an eye on someone who threatened to kill him. Amy would understand. Probably. Still. Couldn't every culture have the same level of modesty? For his sanity, if nothing else?

"Sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to interrupt." He tried to keep his eyes focused on her face, but his medical training kept drawing his eyes downward, towards the cluster of bruises high on her ribs, and the wicked scar running over her hip. ...She was really fit, no arguing that. Rashar seemed to have no problem with her nudity, even after being discovered. She certainly hadn't stopped to get dressed before ambushing Rory. She also didn't seem to have any weapons, fortunately. Not that she probably needed them. She reached up and started braiding her hair.

"You ought to be sorry," she said, not referring to her bath. "And don't think this will get you out of your oath of fidelity. Traitor or not, you're mine now." Great, another army he belonged to. Maybe before they went back to Leadworth he could join the Federation next. Or the Foreign Legion.

"Look, the three of us, we're only trying to help," he offered. "We're good at that, helping." Mostly. Some of the time. "The Doctor only wants what's best for everyone."

"And I only want what's best for my people."

"You think everyone should be your people."

"If that's what's best for them," Rashar replied easily. Rory didn't dare ask what the alternative was. She turned back towards the river. "Follow me." Rory felt his cheeks turning red again, reminded himself that Amy wouldn't be pleased, and did as she said. "Tell me the Doctor's weaknesses," she ordered.

Rory stared at her. Then remembered he shouldn't, and looked away. Then remembered she wanted to kill him, and he probably _should_ , and looked back again. Fortunately Rashar had reached a bundle that appeared to be her clothes, and was getting dressed again. Thank god. Well, okay, a small part of him was disappointed. He shook his head as he remembered her question. "I don't think the Doctor has any weaknesses."

"Everyone has weaknesses."

"You can't defeat someone who doesn't fight," Rory evaded. If it was just a matter of strength, he'd have no problem telling Rashar something. But all the Doctor's weaknesses were emotional ones.

"You can't try and tell me that man doesn't fight," Rashar said incredulously.

"Not like you do," Rory corrected. "Only as a last resort. Because it's the only option. Give him any other choice, and he'll take it." And by the time he got around to fighting, he knew exactly how to take you down.

Rashar seemed to think on this for a minute, fingers tapping along her leather armguards. "He is a fool," she said at last. She didn't speak again, leading the way back to the main cluster of tents in silence. No one seemed surprised to see her walking about on her own, and no one was guarding her tent, so Rory supposed she must have been given some degree of liberty.

She poked her head back out of the tent flap. "Well?"

Rory raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What?"

"Get in here!"

"What — Am I —"

She shook her head, and opened the flap of the tent entirely. "The Doctor has offered your services to me, and while you're hardly trustworthy, better the rock in the sun than the cavern. I'm not staying in this ridiculous place without some guard, and as I'm not to consort with the others, I suppose you'll have to do."

Right. He wished she hadn't said 'consort.' He looked around desperately. Amy and the Doctor were nowhere in sight. Had the Doctor really —? He didn't feel like going back to check. "Okay," he said, and stepped carefully into the tent.

  


The Doctor watched carefully as the remaining Rengu — or Kunisari, properly — were brought into the valley. The elders walked stiff-backed to the negotiation tent while the rest headed towards the Rengu encampment in the close-watched rear of the box canyon. But he couldn't pick out Rory from among their number. He thought he saw a glimpse of movement in Rashar's tent, but —

He sighed, shoved his hands further into his pockets, and picked his way down the rocky path that led from the watchpost to the main camp. No use in brooding.

He could hear voices rising and fighting against each other while he was still a good ten paces away from the negotiation tent. He picked up his pace when he realized one of the voices belonged to Amy.

"Look, I'm not explaining the whole thing again, so you're just going to have to _believe me_ when I say —"

"All these _men_ , of course their decision-making skills aren't trustworthy —"

"— and besides, I don't think any of the lot of them have ever been in battle —"

"I confess I don't understand either, and excuse me, if you're going to insist on —"

"— on _fire_ , and if that's what you really want —"

Amy ran up to him as soon as he walked in. "So, advantage to being at a higher elevation that we didn't think of? I just saw a shooting star. In the middle of the afternoon, and going the wrong direction."

"The Meremetians have launched a successful rocket," the Doctor said sharply. "The Regime is going to love that."

"They're definitely going to move faster," Amy agreed. "Hopefully they'll be occupied by the Meremetians first, but there's no telling."

"Right, negotiating has gone out the window." The Doctor turned to Rashar, now flanked by Juttar and an older woman. "The Esselar don't care if you work with them or not; you're the ones that want reinforcement in order to fight. Considering that you have not won these people to your side in combat, what peaceful terms will you accept in order to work with them _as equals_?"

"They are not our equals —" Rashar started, at the same time that Juttar shook his head, and the older woman spoke.

"The only way to become one of the Rengu is through marriage. To marry everyone is foolishness, but if the leader of the Esselar's military —"

"They don't have a military," Rashar interrupted.

The woman continued over her as if she hadn't spoken. "— were to marry Rashar, as one of the ruling class, that would be sufficient, so long as Rashar continues to lead the military. The number of council seats is representative of the number of our people, and in so doing would allow for seats for the Esselar."

"Well, I think that sounds reasonable —" the Doctor started.

"What, no, Chanara, you know I'm already married," Rashar said.

"Ah, yes, the newcomer Rory," she shook her head. The Doctor and Amy stared at her. "I had forgotten. Perhaps if they were to marry him — or, no, I suppose that wouldn't work, as I suspect their leader is not a woman. If —"

"Excuse me," Amy broke in, stepping in front of Rashar. "But Rory's already married. To _me_."

"If you don't practice dual marriage, why did you let him commit himself to me?" Rashar snapped. She looked ready to throw a punch. "He's —"

"He's also married to me," the Doctor stepped between the two of them, curling an arm around Amy's hip. She shot him a glare. "Amy, why don't you go get Rory, take him back to our tent. I'll see if I can't get this sorted out." Amy turned her glare to him, and his heartbeats shot up further, and for a moment he wondered if she wouldn't challenge him, too. But then she turned and went out of the tent without another word.

The Doctor turned back to the rest of the room, all attention on him now. "Rory didn't mention any of this to us, and I'm sure if he'd known what had happened he would have said. How flexible are your marriage laws, exactly?"

  


Amy wrapped her borrowed poncho tighter around herself as she stormed out of the negotiation tent. The clouds were starting to drift in again with the setting sun, and tomorrow looked like a return to the rainy weather of earlier. Wonderful. She cast an eye around the settlement, trying to figure out where the hell Rory was — she hadn't seen him since he'd stormed off on them, and while she'd been okay with giving him his space at first, it'd already started to wear on her before Rashar's sudden declaration that Rory was now _her_ husband. She shook her head in irritation.

She could just call him, she knew, but then she could've called him at any point, and she hadn't. Probably he was hiding with the Rengu, probably in Rashar's tent. The Doctor had told him to keep an eye on her. And look where that had got them.

Well, if he was, she was just going to have to go back and claim what was hers, wasn't she? She stalked in that direction, the rant building in her head. She could just _shake_ the both of them. Boys could be so _stupid_.

Fabric tents had two big problems as permanent dwellings, Amy thought. No way to knock on the door, and no windows to tell if anyone was home. After staring at the door for a moment in frustration, Amy finally said 'Rory, you better be in there," and pulled open the door ties.

Fortunately, it was just Rory in there, one hand dropping away from the sword at his waist as he recognized her voice and then her figure in the doorway. "Hi," he said softly.

"Hi." She stopped. She hadn't really thought past finding him. She bit her lip, then, before she could regret it, asked, "You all right?"

Rory looked sidelong at her, eyelashes shuttering his gaze. "Yeah," he said after a moment. "Just —" he sighed. "Next time ask _me_ , okay? Instead of walking around like I'm about to break. Or spontaneously combust, or — whatever. I'm not."

"Not what I was afraid of," she murmured.

"I know." Carefully, he held out his hand.

She skipped it entirely, in favor of pulling on one of the straps of his armor, pulling him in to kiss him on the lips for a hard moment. Then she stepped back. Rory blinked at her in surprise. "We should go back to our tent," she said. "The Regime's making their move, and the Doctor's finally gotten negotiations really rolling. Though Rashar's trying her best to wreck it, I think."

"What do you mean?" Rory asked, sliding his hand into hers as she led them up the hillside to their own tent.

"Well, for one, instead of signing up for their military you apparently signed up to be her _husband_."

Rory stumbled, his grip on her hand tightening. "I did _what?!_ "

"Nice to know it wasn't on purpose." Amy pulled him on, not letting him slow.

"Amy, I would never —" Rory jogged faster so he could cut in front of her and look her in the eye. She batted him away.

"I know, I'm just mad." Rory's face wilted and he lost pace. She smacked him in the shoulder with her free hand. "Not at you, stupid."

"Oh." He said it with such relief, like it hadn't even occurred to him, that she gave him an extra shove into their tent. "But the Doctor's going to fix it, yeah?" he asked.

"He'd better." Amy was aware of a slight growl to her voice. "I think he was trying to convince them that between him and me you were already taken."

"You _and_ the Doctor?" Rory repeated, color rising on his face.

"Any objection to that?"

"No, not really." He shook his head hurriedly.

Amy reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him in. He went with it, arms going around her waist automatically. She kissed him hard, almost biting. Claiming her territory. Part of her felt stupid for thinking it, but it was swept away in the hot rush of desire as Rory moaned, clutching at her like she was the only thing keeping him upright. And, well, he'd been out of her sight for _days_ , and nearly run over by a platoon of soldiers, and who knew what else. It had been entirely too long since the last time she'd had him to herself, able to really touch him, do whatever she wanted to him. She pushed him away, and Rory nearly did fall over.

"Clothes off." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Now."

Rory didn't hesitate to comply, tugging at the straps of his foreign armor even as Amy pulled her own poncho over her head, reached beneath her shirts to undo her bra, then yank all of them over her head in one go. She kicked her cowboy boots off next, uncaring of where they ended up. The rest of her clothes quickly followed suit, and then she was tackling Rory to the ground even as he still worked on the last of his gear, rolling him over until they fetched up against the blankets, Amy sprawled over him, pinning him down, knees on either side of his hips.

For a minute, she just looked at him. Cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling, he looked up at her with absolute trust in his eyes. No anger, no hesitation, resignation, or weariness. Lust, yeah, and something that was more than that and still scared her. But — she placed a hand squarely on his chest. "You're mine," she whispered.

"Always." His voice was raw, like he'd been shouting.

She pushed her hand down, just for a moment, right over his sternum. She used the pressure to balance herself, shift herself down, slide onto Rory's cock. His eyes fluttered shut as she took him inside her, heat and need. She rocked harder, gripping Rory's shoulders with bruising force. He moved to meet her, stroke for stroke, hands stroking up her ribs, over her breasts, reaching up to kiss and bite at whatever skin he could reach. It was wild, hot and frantic. She bit his ear, his jaw; he left scratches on her back. She practically wrenched the orgasm out of him, not stopping as he came inside her, choking off a shout into the meaty part of her arm; she moved harder, faster, until that hot white spark exploded inside her, and she collapsed on top of him, out of breath.

They lay there, sprawled out and sweaty. Amy could feel Rory's chest moving beneath her, and, after a minute, his hand combing through her hair. She could still feel him inside her, though soft. She thought about moving, kissing and working at him until he was hard again, again and again, but the urgency had subsided, and she was content to just have him here, with her. She shifted up to kiss him, and it was softer this time, slow. Rory cupped her jaw, thumb brushing light strokes against her cheekbone.

They kissed for what felt like hours, not talking, not fucking, just lazy wet open-mouthed kisses; the occasional brush of a hand or roll of a hip, but Rory was barely half hard when he pulled out of Amy at last, encouraging her to roll over, his mouth and fingers trailing a greedy path between her legs. He knew her inside and out, Rory did, in all the ways it was possible for one person to know another. And he took his time, torturing her with his slowness, bringing her to the brink and then backing away, until it was all she could do not to grab him by the hair and hold him in place. She did, actually, give his hair a warning pull, which he mostly ignored, but then his hands shifted on the insides of her thighs, and his tongue went just _there_ , and oh, _teeth_ —

Rory shifted just enough to rest his head on her stomach, one arm wrapped around her leg. She stared at the patch of blue sky visible through the only partially-closed tent flap, and wondered if she was entirely herself, either.

  


The Doctor stared at the sky. It was — blue. Very, very blue. He concentrated on that color, so different from everything else. But the cloudless sky was an open — blue — canvas, too easy to paint over with his mind's eye. He blinked, shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and shuffled back down the hill.


	7. Chapter 7

It was fully dark by the time they finally left the tent, which Amy hadn't wanted to do, but Rory was getting worried the longer he went without hearing from the Doctor. Amy's word that he'd sort everything out was one thing, but no matter what she said, the Doctor's track record wasn't that great, and Rory'd feel better knowing for himself that they hadn't just made everything ten times worse.

Amy knew the camp better than he did at this point, and together they finally found the Doctor in the kitchen tent, idly stirring at the cooking fire, banked low for the night. A flame flickered every now and again, but mostly it was hot coals, shedding warmth a few feet to the ring of sitting stones. Rory left a seat open between him and the Doctor, but to his surprise Amy didn't fill it. Instead she sat on his other side.

"I assume you talked them into a plan of some sort, if you're out here and not in there," Amy said without any preamble.

The Doctor didn't look up from the fire, but he leaned back a little, turning his head towards them. "Dual marriage isn't so much the practice as polygyny. It's a two-to-one female-male ratio. Two men in a marriage isn't —" he cleared his throat. "Well, it's not something they're used to. I convinced them that it's perfectly normal for us, but they're probably going to be watching us closely for a while. So..." The Doctor looked at Amy first, then Rory, then slid over on the rocks so he was next to Rory. He tucked his legs in, unlike his usual sprawling posture, so they were barely touching.

"They're not going to quiz us or something, are they?" Rory asked. "Do we need to know what your favorite color is, or where we first met?" He squinted. "Who proposed to who when it's three people?"

Amy smacked his shoulder again. "His favorite color is blue, we first met in Leadworth, you proposed to me, and I proposed to him."

"They're not going to ask us questions like that," the Doctor hurried to correct them. "We should just — probably all stick close together." He was looking at the fire as he said it, though. Rory wondered how uncomfortable this whole thing was for _him_ — the bloke who flew across the universe to pick up someone's boyfriend when they came on to him. But he'd brought them both along with him, and didn't make more than the occasional comment if he caught them kissing in the console room. Or going at it in the kitchen. He thought back to Amy pushing him down and straddling him in the tent earlier, and felt the blush rise on his skin.

"The good thing is," the Doctor continued, "that the Esselar we've spent time with had no problem believing it was true, even if the concept was still something they had trouble with." Oh. Good.

"So just keep on keeping on, then," Amy said. Rory was relieved to note that she had a bit of color in her cheeks as well.

"For the most part. Rory's not going anywhere without an escort from now on."

"I swear, I had _no idea_ I was agreeing to marry someone. What kind of marriage ceremony ends with you being tied to someone's leg for a day?"

Amy and the Doctor both raised their eyebrows. "Several, actually," the Doctor said. "If you'd mentioned that — well, it's an isolated culture, I might've thought it was just a coincidence, but I still would've been less surprised."

"I wouldn't have been, but I would've told you to get your arse back here right away," Amy said, that possessive tint back in her voice. Neither he nor the Doctor failed to notice it.

"Maybe from now on I'll only take you places where getting married requires written parental permission," the Doctor said, but he was smiling.

Rory smiled back faintly. "Look out, in that case we _will_ need to marry someone."

Amy squeezed his hand, and changed the subject. "So what are we doing about the Meremetians?"

"That I'm still trying to work out."

There was something reluctant in the Doctor's voice. Rory looked at him narrowly. "Trying to work out, or have worked out and just don't want to tell anyone?"

The Doctor gave him a put-upon look. "You're far too observant, Rory." He sighed. "We don't know what the Meremetians are going to do — are they going to fight back, surrender, or join the Federated Regime? Whatever they do, they'll be doing on their own behalf, but the Regime will act on the whole planet, not just the Meremetians."

Amy nodded. "But we can't get to them in order to work with them."

The Doctor nodded. "We could send someone using the transport on the observation station, but that limits who we could send to — pretty much us."

"Not a proper representation of the people," Rory said.

"But that brings us to where we were earlier," Amy said.

"Exactly." The Doctor leaned towards them a little. "And as I've said before, I don't see a problem with introducing the Rengu and the Esselar to more advanced cultures. It happens all the time, and it's going to happen with or without us being here."

"So you're going to go talk to the Meremetians," Rory concluded.

The Doctor grimaced. "I thought we could all go?"

"That still doesn't sound like letting them solve their own problems," Amy put in.

"We won't be solving anything for them," the Doctor argued. "Just getting a better picture of what's going on. And doing what Dehber already started, warning the locals. The Meremetians are going to be hit first, and they still don't know what's coming."

Rory grimaced. The Doctor had a point. Several points. "All right. But we should probably bring Dehber with us. If he's going to help the Esselar and the Rengu, he should have all the info."

"Rashar's going to love this," Amy said. "Something else we're doing without her input."

"The Rengu will have a say," the Doctor said, his tone suggesting he was repeating himself. "But I would really like to _meet_ these people first."

"You're secretly a control freak, aren't you?" Amy asked.

"I don't think it's much of a secret," Rory murmured.

The Doctor huffed. "Watch it, Pond."

Rory stood, and winced as the movement pulled at the scratches on his back. Still riding the wave of endorphins, he hadn't noticed them when he'd dressed. He blushed, then hoped no one would realize the reason for it. Amy was red-faced as well.

But Amy wasn't looking at him. She was looking at the Doctor, who was still looking studiously away from them. "The tent flap was open," she said slowly. It took Rory a second to figure out what she meant. The Doctor was already nodding.

"I'm sorry." The Doctor's voice was gravelly, his own blush hot on his cheeks. "I should've left straight away, I know, but the two of you..." He took a deep breath. "The two of you always throw all my plans right out the window. I get a little stupid when you're..." He struggled for words. "...perfect."

"We're not perfect," Rory objected. The Doctor looked like he wanted to object, biting his lip the way he did when didn't want to dig himself any further into a hole, but with his eyes dark and the flush still on his cheeks, it looked a lot less innocent than it usually did.

"Doctor —" Amy said. The Doctor reluctantly dragged his eyes over to her, and the second his gaze was locked onto hers, she pulled Rory towards her and kissed him on the lips. Catching on at once, he let her lead, watching the Doctor out of the corner of his eye. The man was frozen in place, staring at the two of them. Which, if Rory could manage to think about it, he did a fair amount.

Amy leaned back and Rory chased after her for a moment before remembering where they were and that someone besides the Doctor might come across them. She put a hand on his shoulder, keeping him from going far. With her other hand, she reached out for the Doctor. The Doctor shook his head, but there was no resistance in him as Amy grabbed hold of his collar, and his mouth opened immediately under hers.

He'd gotten over the thought of being jealous of Amy's attraction to the Doctor a while ago. And then he'd given up on the Doctor ever doing anything with either of them. So his own reaction to seeing the two of them together took him by surprise — he could see why the Doctor had said 'perfect.' Amy had that glow of triumph about her, and the Doctor had lost his frantic energy, caught up in her completely. And there was no jealousy gnawing at his stomach. Just — want. Rory didn't even wait for the tug from Amy, he just fell into them.

Cupping the Doctor's neck, feeling the bristle of the short hair at his collar, he ran a thumb along the strong line of the other man's jaw. The Doctor leaned back into his hand, curving closer to Amy at the same time that he turned towards Rory. The kiss was awkward, but it had been a long time since he'd kissed anyone new, and it took him a fumbling second to adjust. For all his wildness, the Doctor was being much more cautious than it appeared, and Rory carefully coaxed him closer, taking the lead in the kiss in a way he hadn't done in a long time.

When he pulled back at last, it was to see Amy looking at the two of them with approval in her eyes. "I'm beginning to sense a little bit of wish-fulfillment in your claim to the Rengu."

The Doctor licked his lips. "I'd never dream of getting between you and Rory —"

"Actually, I thought we could take turns being in the middle," Amy cut him off.

"How about we do this somewhere less public?" Rory suggested. "And, uh, actually close up the tent this time?"

The Doctor swallowed. Amy grinned. "Tent. I'm not letting either of you out of my sight for a good while." She used their shoulders to lever herself upright, then immediately offered her hands to both of them. Rory took hers at once, and after a moment, the Doctor did too. She pulled them up, and they followed in her wake obediently. In the darkness of the mountainside, Rory slipped his free hand into the Doctor's.

As soon as they entered the tent, though, the Doctor pulled away. "I'm sorry. I can't do this." He laughed harshly. "If I wasn't so sure I'm not asleep —"

Amy reached out and pinched him. "Ow!" He stepped back. "I said I was sure I'm _not_ asleep, Pond."

"Yeah, so this is real, and I'm not sure what the problem is."

"The problem is that this is coming out of nowhere!" He threw up his hands. "Rory, your back goes up if someone _looks_ at Amy for too long. And Amy, you were just —" he faltered, going red again. "— being rather possessive yourself," he finished, but had lost his momentum.

"Did you miss the part where I kissed you too?" Rory asked. "Because I can do it again." He stepped closer to the Doctor, who stayed perfectly still. He softened his voice. "Did you honestly miss us inviting you along on our honeymoon? Or every time after that?"

The Doctor's face twitched, fought to stay expressionless. "What do you want, Doctor?" Amy asked, her voice soft as well. "If you could have anything from us, what would you ask for?"

"I've been very carefully keeping myself from thinking about the answer to that, Amelia," the Doctor said carefully. "I try not to think about things I can't have."

"Yet you let us hang around," she pressed.

"Don't think I couldn't," he acknowledged.

Amy pulled the Doctor forward again, and this time he let her, dropping his head to rest on her shoulder with a sigh. "We could work just fine without you, yeah, Rory and me. But I think we work a lot better with you." She ran a hand through his hair, and looked over at Rory. "I work better when I've got you next to me."

Rory stepped up to her carefully, wrapping his arms around the Doctor to settle at Amy's waist. He kissed her cheek, and he could feel the Doctor shift slightly, turning his head to watch them. "This might be new for you, but we could try taking it slow," he offered.

The Doctor smiled, and dropped a kiss on Rory's cheek. "Just give me a little time to be sure I'm not fouling things up."

"That's what the last few months have been," Amy said. Rory shook his head at her, but the Doctor didn't seem to be deterred.

"It'll be different now that I'm letting myself actually... imagine it. Give me some time to work through the maths."

"Maths." Amy rolled her eyes.

"Let us know if you need any help with your proofs," Rory said anyway. He thought briefly of the cogwork script that popped up in places in the TARDIS — if anyone could make an equation out of emotion, it'd be Time Lords. He kissed the Doctor again, on the lips but close-mouthed, and the Doctor didn't pull away.

"Bed," Amy said. "Nothing you don't want to do, Doctor, but don't hold back on our account, either," she said firmly, and slipped out of Rory's hold to strip down to her knickers.

Rory patted the Doctor's shoulder and smiled in a way he hoped was inviting before stripping down as well. Giving the Doctor some space, he stepped closer to Amy, giving her a look that said 'I hope you know what you're doing.' The look she gave him in return was that familiar 'Of course I don't know what I'm doing. Help me fake it' look. He sighed. "It's dark out, we've got a _very_ tenuous peace between the two parties outside, and a third force big enough to blast us all off the planet headed our way. Let's maybe get some sleep, and concentrate on that for a while, okay?"

"Right," Amy sighed. They slipped into the nest of blankets. "You too, Doctor. You had no problem with this a few days ago, and I suspect you haven't got much sleep since then. In."

The Doctor sighed. He tossed his coat jacket aside, toed off his shoes and slipped out of his braces, then hesitated a moment before undoing the bowtie and taking off the shirt. Rory was surprised there was no undershirt, what with the Doctor's sudden modesty. The basic boxers underneath the trousers seemed more his style. He slipped into the blankets behind Rory and fumbled for a moment with where to put his hands before Rory gave in and grabbed one, putting it on his hips. The Doctor relaxed and stayed put.

"Good night, Doctor," he said.

"Good night."

  


The Doctor didn't sleep. He feigned it, but it was a true feint, hiding in plain sight, looking for a chance to breathe and _think_. Which was hard to do in the warm huddle, wrapped around Rory. But he didn't pull away. He stayed still enough that he could hear his hearts beat — hear _their_ hearts beat, not quite in sync like his own, but so close.

They didn't know what they were doing. They were young.

That excuse was getting a little tired, wasn't it? And it was an excuse, a small part of him nagged. _You're afraid_.

Of course he was afraid. And here he had twice as much chance to ruin things.

_You always do better when there's more than one person with you. You know this._

He traced an imaginary line from Rory's hips to his ribs and back again, ignoring that stupid voice that wouldn't go away. Why did it have to be so hopeful?

_Because pessimism doesn't suit you_.

"Doctor, your thinking's keeping me awake," Amy whispered.

He flinched. "Little hard to turn the old noggin off, Pond," he replied, equally quiet. Rory said nothing, and the Doctor decided he was either still asleep, or giving them a moment. Hard to tell without asking.

"You'll run headfirst into battlefields or abandoned spaceships, but not this?" She knew exactly what he was spinning his wheels on.

"Don't tell me it doesn't scare you, Amy," he said.

"Of course it does. And here's me running towards it anyway. Because it scares me, and I love it. And that makes me work harder to make it work, and that makes it even better."

"Mostly it just scares me."

"Are you scared for us or for you? Because you can't break Rory and me, Doctor. And I don't think we'll ever have more power to hurt you than we already do. We've been through too much for that. So think about it." A knee bumped against his shin. "But not too loud or you'll wake Rory up."

It was a good thing he didn't need any sleep.

He slipped out of the tent at the first hint of lightness in the sky, resting a hand on Rory's shoulder for a brief moment as he mumbled something about rotating the laundry hampers. The air was chilly outside the nest of blankets and he dressed quickly, swinging the nearest poncho around his shoulders for additional insulation.

Outside the tent, the rising sun was chasing the skeins of mist that slid down the mountain, thick enough to hide feet and hard tufts of grass, but not rising more than half a foot off the ground. The _shteti_ wandered through it carelessly as he tromped past the edge of the pasture.

He found Dehber outside his cabin. "You look like a man on a mission. Where're your friends?" The glint in his eye suggested he'd heard the Doctor's maneuvering yesterday.

"Still asleep, the layabouts," he answered calmly. "I want you to tell me about the Regime."

Dehber sobered. "What do you need to know?"


	8. Chapter 8

He had the beginnings of a plan by the time Amy and Rory dropped down to sit next to him. Amy handed him a bowl of some sort of food and Rory slumped against him and rubbed at his eyes, looking sleep-deprived.

"So what're we doing?" Amy asked. "The less it involves being around Rashar, the more I like it."

"Amy," Rory protested, but with no heat to it. "Though, actually, uh, how are the Rengu handling that? I haven't noticed any additional bloodshed, which is surprising."

"Have some faith in me, Rory." He grinned. "Rashar is refusing to marry anyone, which I can certainly understand. And the rest of the Rengu don't want to stay here anyway. Something about a lost city?" He looked at Rory.

"Yeah, they used to live down by the coast before they got booted by invaders," Rory said. "That was decades ago, though, Rashar was only a child. I think only the older ones actually want to go back."

"I think that's up to them to decide," he acknowledged. "But their old home is conveniently close to the route the Esselar take through the summer. A short-term alliance might be more tolerable for everyone, and if the Rengu can regain their old home, the Esselar will be free of pirate bands, and have a grateful neighbor instead.

Dehber looked reluctantly impressed. "That's assuming the Rengu can regain their city."

"With the Esselar at their backs, maybe they can." One could only hope. He finished off the last of the orange pickle-y things on his plate and handed the empty bowl to Rory, who took it wordlessly.

"Provided, of course, that they're all still here after we deal with the Regime," Amy said.

"How long before the Regime gets here?" Rory asked, blinking at the bowl in his hands as if he wasn't sure how it got there.

"If they stay at their current pace, three days." Rory was leaning bonelessly further and further into his space, but he looked no more awake than he had before, so the Doctor wasn't sure if it was the lack of caffeine catching up to him, or just a play to get closer. "Which isn't a lot of time, but some advance notice is better than none."

"If we can work with the Meremetians, how're we going to get back and forth or communicate with them once the Regime gets here? We can't keep nicking the controls to their space station," Amy pointed out. She kicked at Rory's ankle and he sat up straight. Caffeine, then.

"If Dehber here continues to help, it won't be nicking the controls so much as having commandeered the observation station for a revolution." Which sounded so much cooler on top of it all. "The ion field has been released, so we can transport from anywhere now, no need to leave the valley." He stood. "So let's go meet the neighbors."

  


The emergency lighting on the station blinked back into full illumination as the sensors registered their presence on the control deck. "General lockdown," Dehber said. "Hallison didn't expect me to find a way back before he took off."

"He was probably still convinced you were dead," the Doctor said. "Still, lockdown's easy enough to reverse." He took a scan with the sonic screwdriver. "He didn't think anyone was coming, so he did a sloppy job of it."

"Hallison was never much of an engineer," Dehber said derisively. "Shouldn't take long to restore control and do a proper command lockout to keep the Regime from breaking in." He set to work immediately.

"I'd suggest you consider contacting the Shadow Proclamation or any of the other local egalitarian conglomerates," the Doctor offered. "Just make sure you do it in such a way that won't give the Federated Regime an excuse to declare war on _them_ , too." Dehber nodded, brow creased in a frown.

"How fast can _they_ get here?" Rory asked.

"Faster than three days," the Doctor replied. He started scanning through the satellite feeds on Meremetia, looking for a good landing location.

"We should probably take one of the evac shuttles rather than the transport beam," Dehber said. "We'll still have that as a backup, but I don't want to get trapped if we're out of range and need to get away quickly."

"There are shuttles on here?" Amy said. "Bagsies on the pilot seat!"

"The evac shuttles are supposed to be locked to authorized crew only unless the general emergencies have been sounded," Dehber said. "Which is why you didn't see them. But I've overridden that now." Dehber led the way down the short corridor.

"Oh god no," Rory said at the same time. "We don't have time for driving lessons, Amy, besides, we want the shuttle _intact_ —"

Amy hip-checked him into the wall. "Sod off. It's an evac shuttle, it's mostly going to be autopilot. I've been on a few by now, I know how it goes. But I also can't remember the last time I was on a shuttle without fearing for my life, so I thought this would be a good opportunity."

"A good opportunity to keep that tradition alive." She smacked him this time.

The Doctor smiled fondly at their antics. The two of them were — warmth, and light. He felt a sudden deep affinity with moths. "Amelia," he interrupted. "Please remember that we have a world to save. Rory, I promise, I've never seen Pond crash anything unless it was on purpose."

Amy whispered something in Rory's ear, and he shot her a quick glare, but sagged back against her. "It's your lunch you're losing," he said as Dehber joined them and closed the airlock.

The flight controls were simple, the 'plot your destination and go' type that meant it would take Amy more time to figure out how to do a barrel loop than it would to make the whole trip. Which relieved the Doctor a little, and when Rory expressed his own surprise, Amy smirked. "Yeah, I was gonna do a zig-zag or a short stop, just to freak you out, but I didn't feel like it." She smiled, her eyes a little fuzzy, and the Doctor slowly realized that something might actually be wrong.

  


If anyone would have asked (Rory might), Amy would say that she had grown thoroughly tired of waking up on the floor in an alien environment. But waking up in a bed in an alien environment, with no idea how she'd gotten there, made her really wish for a floor instead.

"Our apologies. We hoped that the show of peacefulness would outweigh any additional mental discomfort."

Amy's eyes shot open at the soft voice and she sat up. Still dressed in her own clothes, she was in a wide bed, its sheets a deep chocolate. Rory and the Doctor were on her right, still asleep. A frown creased the Doctor's brow. Amy reached out to draw her hand across it. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him actually asleep.

"Your companions are well, but they will remain asleep." Now her attention was back on the alien. He _looked_ harmless — at least sixty, if he was a human, with grey hair and wrinkles lining his face — but looks could be deceiving.

"What have you done to them?" she asked sharply. "To us. And where's Dehber?"

"The one you call Dehber is in another room. They only sleep." The man held up his hands in a calming gesture. Amy sure as hell didn't _feel_ very calm. "You must understand, for us the element of hearing is not used to communicate with ourselves, but to interact with nature, and outsiders. We communicate within ourselves. To have newcomers, whose voices baffle and convolute the normal ways of interacting, it is painful and damaging to all."

Interacting — oh, did he mean telepathy? Amy thought. There was a slight squeeze and a smile to the man's eyes, and he nodded his head. "Had it only been the four of you, matters might have been sorted easily enough. But the one you call the Doctor — he does not speak as we do, but he can hear. We feared overwhelming him, and did not have a way to convince him to turn away, as we have others who came looking for us."

"You're like a psychic Brigadoon," she said. "Or well, not really, since it's not a curse or fog. But, okay. Well, hiding's not going to work much longer, because that rocket you sent up? Has got a whole bunch of people on their way here, and they're not going to be turned aside so easily."

"So we are coming to realize," he replied. "How to deal with such a matter is something we are still debating."

"The Doctor can help you," Amy argued.

"We do not wish to harm him." The man looked aggrieved. "We have never before kept someone so near to us like this, but we cannot send you away." Amy knew the Doctor was a bit psychic, but she had no idea how much, or how it worked. The Meremetian could be overestimating the problem. Or wildly underestimating it. She bit her lip. "We know that distance lessens our own internal connection," he continued, tone somehow comforting. Was he in her head? "If we can find an internal remove that will allow for commune, that may suffice. Until then, sleep."

"But —" She tried to sit up higher, but she suddenly felt tired, and felt herself slumping back instead.

"Sleep."

She did.

  


Amy woke this time to quiet voices.

"— breathing, you are the absolute _worst_ at this. _Amy's_ better than you. No, shut up, stay down. Come on, deep breaths —" Rory continued his quiet mumble of nonsense, mumbling to the Doctor as he stroked smooth circles onto his back with the flat of his hand. The Doctor had his face buried against Rory's thigh and the mattress, pressed so deep into it Amy wasn't sure how he could breathe at all. His shoulders were hunched up around his ears, his knees curled up — he looked _small_. She turned towards him, and he flinched before relaxing again — though his posture could hardly be called relaxed.

Rory looked up at her, but didn't stop the motion of his hands — the other one, she could see now, was slipped down along his neck in an attempt to register a pulse. "He woke me up like this," Rory's voice kept the same tone, same patter. "For a second I thought he was going to vom all over me, but he just won't move, and I don't dare." He went back to encouraging deep breaths.

"There was someone down here earlier, the two of you were still asleep," Amy said. Carefully, she reached out, combing her fingers through the Doctor's soft hair. He shuddered a little, but something must have changed, because Rory nodded at her, so she continued, running her hand back and forth, trailing over his scalp. "I think he was trying to tell me that they're telepathic. They were afraid of it hurting the Doctor."

"Well, it _is._ Come on, yeah, just like that —"

"He said they were going to try something. I guess it didn't work."

The Doctor shook his head violently. "Worked _too well_ ," he gasped. His face was red, and Amy was startled to realize he'd been crying. By the sudden stop in Rory's monologue, he was too. The Doctor made to put his head back down, but Amy slipped in against Rory before he could, and tugged him down so his head was now on her lap. He resisted for only the briefest of moments before collapsing against her.

"What's that mean?" Rory asked. He shifted as he talked, trying to make the Doctor more comfortable where he was jammed between them, sliding a leg underneath him, hand on the Doctor's back stroking down to his hip, encouraging him to turn, uncurl a little, so he was sprawled on top of them both. The Doctor moved grudgingly, tension still singing through every muscle.

"He's _alone_."

"Right, so instead of a whole flock of aliens happily chirping at you, you've got one very _un_ happy alien, not used to being alone, flinging itself at whatever it can grab," Amy filled in. "That's no good. Is he even, uh, functional? Can we get back to the rest of them, or are we stuck wherever we are now?"

The Doctor curled a hand around her calf, fingers tensing and untensing. "It's getting better — slowly — so he must have some kind of control. But —" His hands were trembling more than they were exerting pressure.

"How long, can you tell?" Rory asked. His fingers were still on the Doctor's pulse, and the frown hadn't left his face.

"I'll go find —" the Doctor reached up and grabbed Amy's hand before she could finish the sentence, grip harder than it had been on her leg. "Or not."

"Is it easier, with both of us, or is it getting easier anyway?" Rory asked. The Doctor being able to communicate at all seemed to be an improvement to him, but it was still scaring Amy to see him like this.

"Both," the Doctor replied, but his voice was faint, and his breathing uneven, making it harder to say anything more expressive. Amy returned to combing her fingers through his hair and shot a worried look at Rory, who returned it.

So they sat there, hands running over the Doctor nervously as he tensed and shivered. He couldn't be at all comfortable — one arm trapped beneath him where he was still twisted on his side, his legs tangled with Rory's in a pale imitation of post-coital languor, betrayed by the way his muscles would jerk absently as if he was fighting to keep them under control. But he didn't say anything, and resisted their attempts to move him further. To put him, Amy realized at last, in less physical contact. She sighed at that, and let it be. Rory must have caught on after a while as well, because he slid his hand up under the tails of the Doctor's shirt, and the man relaxed further, even as Rory kept his hand still against the small of his back.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, though Amy hoped it wasn't, she couldn't even imagine the kind of pain this felt like. At last the Doctor gave a full-body shudder, like a dog shaking off water, and twisted away from their hands. Rory and Amy both scooted away a bit, enough to give him some breathing space, but within easy touching distance. He scrubbed his hands over his face and breathed out slowly.

His face was clearer, and except for a slight redness around his eyes, there was no sign that he might have been crying. He stared at the wall opposite them.

"You all right?" Amy asked when he remained silent.

"Yes," he said at last. He offered them a small smile. "Sorry about the —" he tilted his neck a little.

"Shut up," Amy said, and smacked him gently on the shoulder. She wanted to kiss him, but wasn't sure if she could right now.

"What happened?" Rory asked. "Is it — can you hear all of them now?"

The Doctor hmmm'ed. "Yes, but it's like a static, too many of them to pick up just one. And they're more concerned about him."

"Is he okay?" Amy asked.

"He had it worse than me, but he should be all right, I'm getting a feeling of relief more than anything else," the Doctor explained. "Though I think it will be a while before he comes down to talk to us." Rory's mouth opened to form a question, but the Doctor anticipated it. "Dehber's with him. He seems... concerned enough that this should be taken as a good overture." Rory nodded.

The Doctor made to slide past them off the bed, but Rory pushed him back down. "Oh no. You just said we've got a while before anyone comes looking for us, and you've got to be in pain, after all that non-stop tension. Lie down for a bit. There'll be time to explore later."

The Doctor frowned, but didn't push back very hard. "Best to do it now."

Rory stayed firm. "You scared the hell out of us," he said. "Lie down. Just for a bit."

The Doctor regarded him for a minute, then sank back again. Amy thought Rory would remove his hand once he was sure the Doctor would stay put, but he didn't. He kept his eyes on the Doctor, lying down next to him like a wary guard dog, hand over one of his hearts. Amy licked her lips, then reached down and kissed his cheek.

"Amy —" the Doctor said.

"They put Dehber in his own room, but left the three of us together," Amy said.

"That's not — they just..."

"They're just telepathic," Rory put in. Slower than Amy, he leaned in and kissed the Doctor on the other cheek. "And peaceful."

"This is very inappropriate," the Doctor managed.

"I don't think so," Amy said. She rolled over so she was curled around him again, mirroring Rory.

"Me neither," Rory said. "And I'm pretty sure you don't think so either, you just don't want to admit it." The Doctor's eyes skittered away from Rory. He was always better at reading these things than she was. And saying them, too. If she'd made the first move the Doctor would've been out of the room like a shot. "Relax," Rory repeated. "You need to rest right now. But you did scare the hell out of us."

The Doctor looked from Amy to Rory. His hand slipped into hers, and she squeezed it. "All right," he said.

  


Rory didn't fall asleep again, but time did seem to fade out for a while, with the warmth of the room and the bed. He'd remember himself every once in a while and turn his eye to the Doctor again, who did actually seem to be asleep; and Amy, who wasn't, but was faking it pretty well. He still had no idea what he and Amy were doing. But it felt good, like this, right now.

The Doctor put a hand over his. "I'm still not sure when Amy talked you into this."

"Maybe she didn't. I have eyes."

The Doctor shook his head, a familiar look in his eyes. "But I'm not —"

"Doctor, you're your own worst character reference. Excuse me if I think your opinion's a little skewed here." The Doctor's mouth twisted into an annoyed quirk as he thought that over. Rory didn't give him the chance to think for long. "You ready to do some exploring?"

The Doctor grinned. "Definitely." He put a hand on Amy's shoulder. "Time to get up, Pond." Amy opened one eye to squint at him, and he tapped her nose with a finger before springing from the bed. Amy raised an eyebrow at Rory, and he shrugged.

Amy grinned, and reached across the bed to kiss him. Her lips were soft. "You have very nice eyes."

He nipped at her lip. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Neither do I," she said with a shrug, and slipped out of the bed. So Rory followed, flicking the covers back up on the bed out of habit before stepping out the door.

There was a small hallway that made a tight turn into a stairwell — too short for that, it was only five steps — but he was surprised to discover when he emerged that they were actually on a boat, in the middle of a massive lake. The boat was wide and sat low in the water, and there were no waves that he could see — he'd had no idea they were on the water. The sun sparkled off the water, making it a darker blue than the sky, and for a moment he was reminded of the Mediterranean, but the edges of land that he could see were too tattered, crumbly jagged rock.

"A caldera," the Doctor said. He used a hand to shade his eyes, turning in a slow circle. "No signs of industrial society from here, but they must not be too far off."

Amy made her way carefully to the side of the boat. "You can see all the way down to the bottom!" she exclaimed. "It's a long way off, but the water's so clear!" The boat was about as wide as a four-lane road; the middle half of it was covered, like an awning, but low like the rest of the boat, so it only came up to Rory's shins. He couldn't tell if it opened or not. He also couldn't see any method of propulsion. The boat must curve inwards. Who else was here? Just Dehber and the one bloke?

"Where exactly are we?" he asked.

The Doctor did a slow spin on one foot. "We're somewhere ...north of the city. Not that they call it north."

Rory frowned. "Can you sense them?"

"Just in the general sense of figuring out which direction has more static. Although," he raised his eyebrows, "I can tell our host is headed our way." Amy and Rory moved closer to the Doctor, though what they could have done to protect him against psychic interference was impossible to say.

An old man emerged from another set of stairs opposite their own, followed closely by Dehber. He looked wrung out, haggard. If Rory had been concerned for the Doctor, he was downright afraid for this man. He looked like he was barely holding his own weight. The man managed a weak smile and waved him off before he could even step forward. "Excuse our appearance. We will be well soon enough. We apologize for the disruption."

"Yeah, well, you —" Amy's naturally argumentative nature faltered.

"We're losing time," the Doctor cut in softly.

"What's your name?" Rory asked. Amy and the Doctor both blinked, looking a little surprised. No one had asked. Rory hadn't even felt strange about the lack of introduction until he'd started worrying about the man like a patient, and suddenly the lack of information had been too much.

"We do not have a name, as you would think of it," the man replied. Right, psychic like collective consciousness. "You called us the Meremetians. That will suffice."

The Doctor nodded. "Are you close enough to the rest of your people that you can function well, or should we wait until we're closer? I won't come to any harm."

The Meremetian shook his head. "We are getting closer all the time." Rory frowned. It didn't look like they were moving. "And you're right, we don't have time to waste." He gestured for them to sit, the raised edge of the boat acting as a bench, as long as you didn't try to lean back. "In the past, we have sent small groups of investigators on their way with no memory of their visit, as we did with Dehber."

Dehber frowned at this. "We didn't —"

"Yes you did," he was corrected smoothly. "But a force this large, with orders this explicit, we cannot turn back. And we are a peaceful people, we have no physical weapons to use in our defense. But we cannot surrender to them without losing everything that makes us who we are."

Psychic influence was a powerful thing. Once the Regime found out about it, they would either try to destroy it or use it to their own ends. Either one was — not good.

"I'd thought we could try bringing some of the Meremetians aboard the command vessels and they could convince the Armada commanders to change their minds," Dehber said, "but if they can't even be away from each other more than a short distance, that'll never work."

"It might be sustainable if a small party went, but viability is doubtful," the Meremetian agreed.

"If you knew there were other people out there and they might have hostile intentions, why did you build the rocket?" Rory asked.

The Meremetian shrugged. "Because we wanted to see what else was out there."

The Doctor smiled. "What if we could bring the commanders to you? Do you think changing enough of their minds might work?"

The man thought about it. "It might be a temporary solution, but once they returned to _their_ commanders, it would... the game would be up," he said, plucking the phrase from somebody's — probably the Doctor's — mind. "No, we need something firmer than that."

"And don't forget about the Esselar and the Rengu," Amy said.

"Ah, the people over the sea." The Meremetian frowned. "We have tried exploring the untamed lands of our world, but we found the minds of the other peoples here too... chaotic."

A look of realization crossed the Doctor's face. "You encouraged them not to cross over the sea on their own, didn't you? The ocean isn't that much of a desert that they couldn't have explored it if they didn't want to."

The Meremetian nodded. "It was a simple primitive fear. To overcome it would mean that their minds had advanced to a state that would not be painful to interact with."

"So does that mean you won't work with them, when they want the same thing? Deserve the same thing?" Amy pressed.

"Even if they _will_ ," the Doctor's stress on the word implied it was not a suggestion. "We still need to figure out global defense and communication. Which I think Dehber might have some ideas about." Dehber didn't look terribly surprised that the Doctor had caught him out. Maybe he was getting used to the man. The Doctor turned to him. "You want freedom from the Regime. Not just for yourself, or your planet, but all the planets that have been suppressed and used for labor or specialized industry." Dehber nodded. "But you can't do anything on your own, an insurrection wouldn't hold. But, if you were caught out influencing a pre-industrial culture, and the Shadow Proclamation or another outside force started something in reaction, that could crack things wide open. Or even if you weren't caught at that, but could convince a newly subsumed planet to reach out outside of the Regime, even then you stood a chance." Now Dehber was visibly impressed. "I looked you up in your computer system. I saw that you were pressing for research posts on new systems."

"I never intended it to happen like this, though," Dehber said forcefully. "I thought — gunpowder, maybe. Not so many people dying." His face had paled, his knuckles gone white over his clenched fists.

"You're making up for it, I know," the Doctor soothed. "And you have other people who are also unhappy with the Regime. You have resources you can pull on. Can you do that? Do you think you can coordinate a resistance?"

Dehber shook his head. "No, I don't want to lead a resistance. I can't lead people to their deaths —"

"I wouldn't want a leader who would," the Doctor said. "Caution is one of the best qualities someone in your position can have. Think about it." Dehber subsided, a conflicted look on his face. The Doctor seemed to take that as a good sign and pressed on.

"You've already sent out a distress call that should bring the Shadow Proclamation running. They'll hand over plenty of resources if they think they can bring the regime down. And you have enough experience with ruling bodies to make sure they don't demand too much in return. The most important part of breaking free from tyranny isn't the fight, it's that you can stay free after."

"I can't do it alone."

"You have the Rengu. You have the Esselar. Send out envoys to the coastal cities. You have the Meremetians. You have everyone whose growth has been trampled by the rules of the Federated Regime. You're not alone. You just need to take the first step."

"And it might be my last." The Doctor gave him a narrow look, and Dehber burst into a rueful chuckle. "And if everyone said that, there would never be any progress. All right, I'll try."


	9. Chapter 9

"Do you think it'll work?" Rory asked as they slipped through the sky. Now that they'd made contact with the Meremetians and they seemed willing to help, the Doctor could see the future rolling on without him, building up its own momentum. Dehber had his mistakes to fix, Rashar had her people to prove herself to, and the Doctor had other places he wanted to be.

"I think the only one not convinced of his worth is Dehber," he said. "The Meremetians are more than willing to work with him — apparently he sounded restful. Though that might have just been in comparison to you lot." He shot a look at the Ponds that he hoped would convey that he was teasing. It must have, because Amy rolled her eyes.

"Oh, and not you?"

He shook his head quickly, and shoved aside the annoyingly sticky thought of the two of them pressed against him. Shoved aside the images of the two of them together. Kisses on his cheek. The _three_ of them — No. He busied himself with docking the shuttle with the observation station. Now that contact with the Meremetians had been established, Dehber could send for it automatically, or use the transport beam much more reliably.

"I think, in fact, that now that the Meremetians are actually in the picture, and more than willing to help, our work here is done." He waved a hand at the hallways. "Dehber can get an official plea for help from them in addition to what we already have from the Esselar and the Rengu, and the Shadow Proclamation will certainly give aid to the Meremetians as a new race even if they try to pass him over."

"You don't want to stick around and make sure it all goes okay?" Rory asked.

"Can't keep all the fun for myself, Rory," he replied cheerfully, and punched in the coordinates for the hillside where the TARDIS was waiting impatiently. "If I stuck around for all of it, history books would be a lot more boring." And he really didn't want to subject himself to the torture of having to be so _close_ —

"Or involve a lot more explosions," Amy put in. Funny, she didn't seem any more eager than Rory to move on. He would've thought both of them would be eager to get away from Rashar and her over-possessiveness of Rory. Rory at least should be glad to stow the armor again. He looked up at them through the convenient veil of his hair. They were both looking at him in ...concern? He looked back down again quickly.

"Too many explosions." He clapped his hands. "Time to go before we take up too much time that isn't ours." His hand was on the teleport controls when Amy grabbed his free hand. "What?"

She smiled at him. "Nothing." She didn't let go.

He studied her for a second. She didn't look away, and after a moment he had to, a smile forcing up the corners of his mouth despite himself. "Right." He squeezed her hand, and transported the three of them back to the TARDIS.

It wasn't until Amy refused to let go of his hand even after they'd entered the TARDIS that the Doctor realized she might have had a motive beyond simple friendship.

"Ahh — Pond, Pond, where are we going? I've got —" he waved distractedly with his free hand towards the console room "— things, places —"

Rory grabbed his wavering hand. "Later."

The Doctor looked at him sharply, bobbling a little as Amy continued to tug him along behind her, her goal now suspiciously clear. "Mister Pond."

"Yes, Also Mister Pond?" Rory looked at him guilelessly. Which was a first. Usually Rory was full of guile. Well, no. Rory was always guileless. But usually it was the actual kind of guileless, and not this faux-guileless. Guile _ful_.

"Rory —" he started, then gave in with a sigh. "What happened to giving me time?"

"We gave you time," Amy said simply. "And I know you're capable of saying no. So I figure you _want_ to say yes, but don't figure you can have it." She kissed him, close-mouthed and warm. "You're already in love with us. Can you really deny that?"

His hearts pounded. No, he really couldn't. He was addicted, to the love they gave off in waves. Their love for each other, that was what he always thought of it as, had seen it as that from the moment Amy asked Rory to stay, hesitant and unsure herself but reaching out anyway. Like she was reaching out now. But maybe it wasn't just for each other. He could feel both their attentions focused on him. He kept perfectly still, though inside he was vibrating furiously enough to explode into a new quantum state. _Potentialities._

_Possibilities._

Amy's pulse ran fast through her fingers, blood warm with want and caring, hands refusing to let go, no matter what he chose; Rory behind him with faded scars on his heart and fading scratches on his back and the will to keep going no matter what life chose for him. The TARDIS curled gently around them, pressing suggestively at the choice she knew he wanted, until it glittered with promise before his eyes.

He'd never surrounded himself with unsubtle people, had he.

And he'd never been very good at taking the safer path.

"It may have crossed my mind once or twice," he admitted softly.

"Only once or twice?" Amy asked, and leaned in, her mouth a fraction of a touch away from his.

"A day." When he was being good. When they were _right there_ , touching and smiling and _being_ — he twitched his mouth into the beginnings of a studied frown, sheer habit even in the face of being surrounded by this confounding warmth. Amy's lips interrupted him before he could complete the downward turn.

She kissed like she did everything, demanding and eager and one hundred percent in charge. All in all not that different from that first kiss she'd pressed against him, adrenaline and a little bit of fear — but where that had been a push, this one was a pull, and he tugged her up against him, leaning back into Rory at the same time. Rory tightened his grip on both of them, his breath pitching higher, hot against the Doctor's neck. He wanted to turn, kiss him too, but he didn't want to turn away from Amy. If he turned just a little, he could almost —

Amy pulled back with a laugh. "Sorry, Doctor, my neck doesn't bend that far." She reached past him to brush a kiss over Rory's cheek. "I think this'll be easier in a bed, don't you?"

Oh, beds. Beds were big. Big enough you couldn't step back from them. "I think so," he said. His voice was rust-deep, which surprised him, just a little. But Rory laughed against his neck, and apparently he was the only one who was surprised. Always late to the game, with these two.

These _two_. A push from Rory and pull from Amy and they were in the bedroom. Another push and he was on the bed, and he was beginning to appreciate their desire for something other than a bunkbed. Though bunkbeds were still cool. Amy effortlessly relieved him of his jacket, then made short work of her own jumper as well.

Rory paused, crouched above him, the Doctor's back to the mattress. That familiar look of being out of his depth was starting to assert itself. The Doctor tugged on Rory's shirt. "You two finally talk me into this, you're not allowed to stop now." Rory smiled, a stuttering thing that took a minute to flow across his face, but couldn't be stopped once it gained momentum. The Doctor reeled him in entirely, kissing him until both their pulses raced uncontrollably. Rory ground his hips against the Doctor's, erection rising flatteringly fast.

Amy insinuated herself between them, now down to her underthings. "You are both," she said, punctuating the words with short kisses to whatever parts of their faces she could easily reach, "wearing too many clothes."

"Sorry," Rory managed, breathless. He moved to a kneeling position to remove his shirt, and the Doctor reached up to undo the button of his jeans.

He was not, by any large stretch, a physical person. It was hard to be attracted based on looks when you could wake up one morning and have new hair, eyes, teeth, and taste buds. It was always personality that drew him in first. But that didn't mean he didn't find it extremely gratifying when Rory leaned into his touch, arching into his hand and gasping for breath.

Amy reached out to kiss Rory and he leaned into her automatically, even as he reached out with one hand for the Doctor, gripping his wrist and keeping his hand pressed against his trousers. The Doctor worked faster to undo his fly, and Amy wrapped her arms around Rory's shoulders, almost biting his lips as she swept her tongue into his mouth. He could feel it as Rory gave himself over to them, his mind blanking almost entirely, the feeling both humbling and arousing. He yanked Rory's zipper down and wrapped a hand around his erection, mouthing kisses over the deep thrum of Rory's rapid heartbeat.

"No, no, come _here_ ," Rory managed, breathing around Amy and yanking him upwards. He was pulled into a kiss before he even realized what was happening, and Amy was kissing him now, Rory biting at his throat and pulling the last of his clothing aside.

His free hand reached out to Amy's hips, warmth and smooth curves, inviting, seeking, _wanting_ ; he didn't know how he'd managed to deny it for so long. Amy kissed him breathless, _thoughtless_ , absolutely endless kisses until he couldn't tell where his own thoughts ended and hers began, Rory's began, anything other than 'yes, please, more.' Her hands hot on his hips, moving, pushing, taking, until she sank onto his cock, hot heat and endless pleasure, need, _love_ , want, giving, taking, pounding into him and pulling out of him in double heartbeats and breathless moments.

Rory's mouth replaced Amy's as she moaned, gasped, writhed above him, and he clutched at them, needy, desperate, and they gave back without thinking. He bucked hard, _harder_ , seeking, into their endless embrace, and they met him, stroke for stroke, answering his every question with endless love and so many hands, touching, everywhere, overwhelming — he whited out on it, too much, _so much_ — touch, taking, giving, their need, their love; for him, for each other, an endless possibility, certainty, heedless of time or space or action. Somewhere, he orgasmed, Amy did, Rory did, their physical bodies trying to comprehend what time and space and the cosmos couldn't confine. He could see it all, for a moment, in a way he only rarely did, when he was running, chasing, fleeing, possibilities before him, and dead certainty — they loved him, and they didn't care what happened, they just _cared._

For him.

For each other.

No matter what.

He fell back, gasping, breathless, body overloaded, unable to see, process, feel.

Just the two of them —

Three of them.

No matter what he might possibly ever do, they loved him. In that moment, a fact of the universe, indisputable. Amy and Rory Pond loved him.

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe.

  


Coming back to herself was like trying to process a tsunami by counting all the fish.

Amy breathed silently to herself, trying to find a definition that was her and only her. She knew there was one swimming around in there somewhere, but it seemed unimportant in the face of everything.

There was someone, or possibly someone _s,_ curled up around her. She took stock of arms, legs, body temperature, and decided it was definitely multiple people. Species. People.

Rory had made his way to his usual position, wrapped around her like a needlessly overprotective scarf. His head tucked down, his arms wrapped around her, seeking comfort at her side.

But that wasn't all. There was something else — some _one_ else — hands at her knee, a hand, a face, a cheek, her thigh — the Doctor, body temperature cooler than average but the faint remembrance of warmth, so _warm_ , the three of them — somewhere, somehow, her thighs thrummed, warmth and excitement and love, and that wasn't right, was it — that wasn't something you should feel, remember, the same way you could feel aches, scars, battle wounds, but there it was. Love, remembrance, like a fact, like skin and DNA and history books. Her skin hurt, ached, in a good way, in a permanent way, something pulling at her, her skin, her mind, telling her, _this will last forever._

She didn't know what it was, and wondered at it, for a moment.

Then everything just felt _right_.

The Doctor lay between her and Rory, eyes open but not seeing, breathless, still processing, trying to take it all in. She pressed her hand to his breastbone and kissed him, kissed him until he breathed again, move again, pressed himself against her and inhaled, like a ghost coming to life, like a dream — this is real, all of it, forever. Forever and ever, no matter what I do.

She kissed him, and he let her, and Rory wrapped his arms around them, and nothing could touch them in this moment, a fact not even the universe could dispute.

After an indefinite amount of time, Rory's arms shifted. "Lovely as this is, and I really mean that, I really need to use the loo." He coughed quietly. "And I could do with a general washing up. We all could — not much in the way of hot water back there."

Amy reluctantly acknowledged that Rory was right. "Mmmmnnnnnnh, fine," she sighed. Reaching down, she grasped the Doctor's hand. "Come with?"

The Doctor nodded against her. "All right." She felt a vague sort of surprise, as if that should have been harder, but it really didn't need to be, did it?

They separated themselves out awkwardly, reclaiming their own limbs and hands and feet. Rory shuffled into the bathroom and Amy made to follow him, but the Doctor pulled her aside with a slight tug on her arm.

"I have an idea," he said, and dropped her robe over her shoulders. "Rory, use the other door on your way out," the Doctor called.

"...There's a new door in my bathroom. That's exactly what I needed right now," Rory said flatly from inside the bathroom. The Doctor's mouth twitched up in a grin.

He led Amy out the bedroom door proper, but the hallway outside was recognizably different than it had been earlier. Dustier, paler, the air had a still feeling to it. "I haven't come this way in a while. Last few bodies haven't been fond of a good long soak, but I think that's exactly what we need."

He pushed open a wooden door. Weathered and ill-set in its frame, it looked like it should creak and groan, but it opened silently. The air wafting out from the other side was warm and pleasantly humid. The interior reminded her of Japanese baths, or the communal baths of New Gloucester (no relation to the familiar one, but the Doctor had taken them there as a sort of joke). Rough wood worn smooth by time, wide high frosted windows on the far side of the room, light sparkling through them from an indistinguishable light source, the room was indirectly lit, and even that was hazed over by the steam coming from the warm, massive bath in the center of the room.

The Doctor slipped the robe off her hand hung it up on a peg before doing the same with his own — or rather, Rory's, which he'd nicked. His hands were soft on her skin as he helped her in over the waist-high ledge. She closed her eyes and let the heat overtake her for a moment, the heat a shock yet at the same time relaxing her muscles. The Doctor splashed his way in next to her, all long limbs and awkwardness, and she opened her eyes in time to see him settle himself on the bench seat next to her. She immediately shifted over to seat herself on his lap. He looked up at her with dark eyes, and she couldn't help but kiss him. The Doctor curled his hands around her waist, pulling her closer. He kissed her lightly, like he was afraid if he moved too swiftly, he'd wake up and discover it was all a dream.

When she finally pulled back to breathe, his lips were red and wet, and she couldn't help but run a thumb over them. "This is nice," she said, huskiness deepening her tone.

"I really should come here more often. I like the swimming pool well enough, and this is like that, but warmer —"

"Not the bath," she corrected his bluster. "Being here. With you." She was flattered to see a blush actually rise on his cheeks — and it was definitely from her words, his skin was barely red where the water touched him. He tried to hide it by leaning in to press a kiss to her jaw. His hands flickered up her sides, cupping her breasts in the water.

"Why did you really keep from saying anything to Rory or me?" she asked quietly. "We couldn't have been more obvious about wanting you."

The Doctor gave a little sigh, still hiding against her neck. "I get... possessive. Bad enough with friends, but with lovers —" He pulled back enough that she could see his wry smile. "I know you hate that, and I love you and Rory both, but I'm already jealous of the two of you, and I don't want to make it worse." He shook his head. One hand was tracing idle designs into her skin, repetitive circles and lines just under her collarbone, that she imagined might be words in his native language, whisked away by gravity quicker than he could finish writing them. "Three hundred years, and I can't keep myself away from the two of you. And I thought my affection for your planet was bad enough."

"I think you're better about it than you think you are, Doctor." Rory's voice was tinged with affection, and Amy turned in the Doctor's lap to see him leaning against the far edge of the tub, looking at the two of them fondly. He removed the towel from around his waist and joined them in the tub, sending the water sloshing in steady waves. It sent and immediately soothed lines of goosebumps along her skin where the water lapped at it.

"You don't know me as well as you think, Mister Pond —" for the first time Amy saw the name as a reminder for the Doctor, and not a tease for Rory "— I've grown better at restraint than I used to be, and I don't want to test it."

Rory sat down next to them and turned the Doctor's cheek in order to kiss him. It was an aggressive kiss, for Rory, tongue sliding easily into the Doctor's mouth, the hand on his cheek turning slightly to cup his jaw, keep him close. The Doctor melted a little, leaning into Rory and therefore Amy as well, one hand moving from her chest to Rory's.

"You're proud," Rory said, whispering it like a secret, punctuating each part with a kiss. "You're impatient. You get overly involved at the drop of a hat. And yeah, I can see the possessive thing, too. But you're aware of it, and when someone calls you on it, you stop. Like I said, you're your own worst critic." The Doctor shook his head, and Rory shook his own back. "Besides, you get bored when we have to wait for anything more than five minutes. You try to give Amy and I a normal life, but you can't stand it yourself. As long as you keep giving that to us, you're never going to take over our lives. You give way more often than you try to take."

"You see too much good in me, the both of you."

Amy turned his head towards her. "Don't do the broody thing, Doctor, it doesn't suit you." She kissed him again, and Rory slipped his free hand around her waist, bending a little to kiss her shoulder.

"That's what I love about you Ponds, you're never afraid to tell me off." The Doctor smiled into her kiss and she rewarded him with a little grind of her hips, coaxing his erection to life again. Rory laughed in her ear and slipped his hand between her legs, stroking her quickly, helping her slide down onto the Doctor. The water was splashing over the three of them again and she set up a rhythm with it, slow but intense. Rory continued to work at both of them where they were joined, slender fingers surprising gasps out of both of them then stealing them away with gentle kisses.

Neither of them lasted very long this go 'round, and soon she was slumped against the Doctor, feeling absolutely boneless. He must too, she could feel him petting absently at her hip, but he was mostly petting the ledge they were still (barely) sitting on.

"See, Amy's not patient either," Rory said, the only one still collected, and the Doctor managed a weak laugh.

"I don't know how you manage it," he replied.

"Two thousand years of practice," Rory said lightly.

Amy shook her head, and leaned over to kiss him. "I think you're just naturally gifted."

They settled back into the activity of actually bathing at that point, the Doctor quietly insisting on doing most of the work; smoothing a damp sponge up the line of her back, over her shoulder, down her arms; using the opportunity to explore every inch of her skin, to drop lazy kisses in the crook of her elbow, the middle of her back, the constellation of freckles near her hip. He explored Rory's body with equal fascination, and Amy was amused to see the flustered blush rise on Rory's skin at the attention paid to him — hands lingering on the curve of a calf just as long as on the flex of fingers, the smooth skin of his stomach. He surrendered the sponge with ill grace, but between her and Rory they managed to coax it away from him and return the favor. Amy was reminded how much strength laid under the deceptively ungainly frame. Not even twenty four hours ago he'd been trembling under her hands for entirely different reasons. She pushed the memory aside and concentrated on the way Rory's fingers looked moving over the curve of the Doctor's spine.

The warmth of the room and the fade of the last adrenaline rush was starting to get to her. "Should probably get back to our bedroom before I fall asleep in here." Rory nodded in agreement, so they clambered out again, wrapping up in thick white towels. Stepping into the hallway again, Amy was surprised to discover that she wasn't chilled at all — she sent a mental 'thank you' to the TARDIS.

Pulling back the covers on the once-again-fresh bed, Rory hesitated. "I know you don't sleep much, and you'll probably get bored in about five seconds, but —" he set his lips together, that familiar 'it's not a big deal if you don't want to' face on, and nodded his head towards the bed, not quite looking at the Doctor.

The Doctor stepped up to Rory and kissed him on one cheek, then the other, before kissing him firmly on the mouth. "Rory. I've been bunking with your two for the last few nights. I've no reason to stop now. I might slip off once the two of you are asleep, yes, but this is where the possessive part comes in again, because I'll take every moment I can with the two of you, any way I can." He kissed Rory again, then Amy, and they collapsed into a messy heap on the bed, on top of the covers instead of under them. It took an extended amount of wriggling — and laughing, and kissing, and perhaps a bit of incidental groping — to get everyone's limbs settled under the blankets and into something approaching a restful position. The Doctor was firmly ensconced in the middle, which might make it harder for him to escape without waking them, but he didn't seem to mind Amy's head on his shoulder, or Rory curled up against his side, their hands reaching across him to meet on his chest. He curled a hand into Amy's hair, stroking it lightly.

"Good night, Ponds. Long day tomorrow, whatever we end up doing."


End file.
